i'm signing you up for texting rehab
I'm torn. Shes everything I ever wanted, but I just cant get past the story about having drunken sex with her dog in high school.
I am tired of kissing girls with mustaches.
I just found our entire wall-to-wall from September 2006 printed out and clipped... it's 49 pages. Blackout me is so considerate of bored-at-work me
I feel like a blind man at a water park. Every step has the potential to be either fatal or lead to accidental, but totally enjoyable, sex.
She has a tattoo on her inner thigh that's an x with a long dotted line. So after she passed out I signed it. Dunno what else I was supposed to do...
There is blood on my sheets, we apparently used 8 towels, everything in my shower is knocked down. Wut?
I also got a mission for you and you're gonna love it. Biggest. Hospital. Party. Ever.
this temple that is my body is starting to crumble and turn into ruins
I ate breakfast with him. And by ate breakfast I mean we fucked on the kitchen table.
Well.. If you trust a test that only costs a dollar, I'm not pregnant
Just zoned back in to real life and found myself chanting "noodle eater noodle eater noodle eater" at my parrot as he devoured a single macaroni
after the ketamine those signs on the bathroom door had little meaning to us
Did that sound smart? Cuz beneath the boozy exterior beats the heart of a fucking scientist.
Gave a guy a blowjob in a convent. Place in hell is now secured...
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