I'm tuning in to watch Heidi Montag crash and burn on the Miss Universe Pageant. Somebody call 911. and I'm not talking about the Sean Kingston song.
I kind of feel like guidos are mythical creatures.
she read insantiy as in-nast-tit-ty and asked what the hell does that mean...
He is drunk texting me begging me not to tell my mom. Pretty sure he is about to offer me sexual favors for keeping my mouth shut. I love being the boss's daughter.
Stealing vibrators from Walmart together was when I realized you'd be my Maid of Honor.
P.S, i don't recommend doing keg stands on top of vehicles.
There were gay boys and a jukebox. It was like god wanted me to.
I have dibs on his crisis of faith.
I can't drink with the moms anymore. All they talk about is lactating.
Fuck you asshole. You cost me cheerleader pussy.
I told her to not worry about it. Lone Star is an excellent first trimester beer.
You can't just say "I scored us a potential threesome" and then not text me back.
Seltzer and cocaine. Life is flawless right now.
The worst part is there are all kinds of happy creatures out here like fucking snow white and i'm sitting in semi-dead grass, hungover with a burnt butt
He's eating me out right now. That's how bad he is.
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