Please tell me I didn't pass out while we were having sex last night... and if so I am sooooo sorry.
like what am i supposed to say "im thinking of how bad that sex was"?
I just had an epiphany. There is NOTHING TO STOP ME from making cake mix and eating it all instead of making a cake. It feels like my entire life has peaked at this moment.
Totally about to meet up with Ryan in an empty parking lot. Expect to fuck him. Yes I know it's 3am. Slutty? Possibly. Excited? Damn right.
I just realized there's an entire generation of children that will never know Alex Trebek had a mustache... Sad.
he literaly had a hockey helmet on and was swan diving off the couch onto the coffee table.
I really gotta be careful. My email inbox is equal parts notifications from instructors and this dude's dick. If I get drunk and reply to the wrong thing I might get kicked out of grad school.
He asked me "did you used to go to church" while we were having sex.
I'll just put on a bunch of mascara and cry right before I get there. Then everyone will recognize me.
Strip mythology. Everyone wins. Most of all me.
Before he comes over remember the house standards. Ask yourself "will he stalk my sister or myself in the future?". If the answer is yes, then no, he isn't allowed.
Lack of response to this text gains you a half hour of freedom before I initiate operations to conclude you are not, in fact, comatose. You requested no mercy.
Got a snapchat from Megan last night showing you sobbing about a burrito on the floor with Dan in the background trying not to laugh his ass off
I'm bringing home frosties. I need to talk about butt stuff.
I should probably just LinkedIn request everyone I've ever slept with so they stop popping up on my suggested connections list
Randomize
