im like that movie w. ryan reynolds, no ones ever going to date me unless they're forced to marry me.
im trying not to drink and cry in the same night anymore. i'll let you know how it goes
THEY HAVE A VOMIT TROUGH.
What?
A TROUGH FOR VOMIT.
Three of the best words ever! Cocaine. Research. Study.
The fact that I found him in his Ninja Turtles t-shirt next to six empty and obviously consumed packs of EasyMac watching reruns of Becker certainly made telling him that I wanted a divorce so much easier than I had planned.
It was romantic. He brought over a bottle of Jack to celebrate us becoming official on Facebook. Definitely a story for the grandkids.
He was at the bottom of the stairs showering himself with the popcorn, then eating a few handfuls and running around.
i think i was tempted to text while we were making out. like i remember holding my phone up behind his head and just staring at it.
You basically told your boyfriend at the time you were going to shit in his hands.
And I meant every ounce of it.
I wonder if i could put a dildo on my bike seat to encourage me to exercise.
Like I had no idea he knew how to play girls the way he played me. His major is chemistry for christ's sake.
Are you having sex right now? Or is the apt just swaying rhythmically on its own? Either way, awesome.
Watching him and my sister argue over a rum and coke about who's going to chop the coffee table in half with a hatchet...
THAT FUCKER WASTED TWO OF MY COLORED CONDOMS! HE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING FINISH IN IT HE JUST SLAPPED IT ON AND WASTED IT!
Do you know anyone else that comes home with unexplainable injuries as many nights a week as we do?
Randomize
