So I just opened the bag you gave me and those panties aren't mine...
oh
I think call of duty has replaced my masturbating. And I'm alright with that.
Seriously... There's something wrong here. I'm drinking vodka to mask the smell of chocolate on my breath before I get home and he finds out. I fucking hate couple dieting...
He's sobering up. It was really bad for like 45 minutes. He cried while telling me how he pictured us eating hotdogs on the beach together.
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Nothing says never again like hurling in the shower.
After so many times of carrying your puked covered clothes home in a bag on a Tuesday morning, you begin to realize that Fucked Up Mondays aren't a real thing.
This is true. I'm still having Jess write "no drugs" on my left hand and "except weed" on my right hand
There was a tour on campus today, and there were two girls i went to high school with in the group. They saw me and ran up to me as i was unlocking my door. when i opened it, kate was laying in a pile of glitter and beer cans. We need to reevaluate.
The last thing I remember is goading each other into a vodka-chugging competition.
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Those boxers don't belong to me anymore. They belong to the desert surrounding Phoenix.
I'm literally rolling on acid for the first time during Thanksgiving. Help me.
We got really high and he took a green marker and made my vagina into a Christmas tree.
And for the record I didn't even have sex last night. I threw up in his toilet and slept in his bed until noon
I woke up to find I still had sequins under my tits. I'd say Sunday was a success.
We’ve discussed sex and dinner. Like chicken nuggets while doing it doggie and watching tv.
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