Mr. Last Night just informed me I told him to be very quiet when he left this morning and high-fived him as a goodnight kiss. Drunk me is slutty and manly.
Clearly I made an impression.
Or at least your vagina did.
Whatever. I'll let someone else deal with his flacid penis.
I stumbled into my living room at 4 a.m. to find him hurling my laptop across the room and his pants around his ankles. Clearly his night didn't go as planned.
While looking for an apartment, I've realized that the way I rate balconies is on the "how easy would it be to smoke weed here" scale.
What other scale is there?
I don't know how or when he is sober long enough to donate plasma
If it makes you feel any better about life I'm wearing yoga pants with granny panties and toms with socks cause fuck my life
After sex he cried I didn't know what to do so I patted him on the back and went to the kitchen to make waffles
It was weird, because he kept shaking his head like he was motorboating me...but on my vagina.
It's like everything I need in life within a five block radius: booze, toilets, dogs, dicks.
This morning i put band aids over my nipples bc i was too lazy to put on a bra. Think I've reached a new low.
Come over. And we'll put iced coffee in the bong.
I don't like how my gyno is telling me how to live my life.
Like if Ohio doesn't think I can get smashed on wine I will gladly prove them wrong
He grabbed at it like it was a stress ball or something. It's a boob, not a grapefruit. The fuck.
Randomize
