Holy cold harsh reality of sobriety batman
hows a nice way to say "yeah i would go to your dorm, but it's snowing and I know you're not going to blow me, so what's the point"?
another part of my inner child died when i emptied my crayon bank for dollar beer night.
If I ever write a book, i'm calling it "why do i work with fucktards?"
It'll be a good sequel to my other book, "why do i sleep with fucktards?"
That would make regret #10
He was more like the original regret
Well, most of my extended family doesnt know about my love for the penis, so they dont have a reason to disown me
mhmm. we know where to go, which places have free bathrooms, how long you can be in one until its sketchy, we have this down to a science. we're like the college sophomore pregaming dream team
I'm so high that I'm intently watching my neighbor move his car back and forth in order to put his motorcycle in the garage, and getting irritated that it seems so complicated.
I guess I look like the kind of girl who would buy edible, weed-infused lube.
He came inside and met my grandmother after we had sex in the driveway. I love that he has a van.
He tripped and fell all the way to the ground and then stood right back with out spilling a drop of his 3/4 full glass of rum and coke. It was like watching something from the matrix
Sometimes I get confused on who I really actually know and who's lives I just know everything about via internet. Its a fine line
The neighbors in the apartment above us are at it again. The roleplay this time is cop and prostitute. I give it 30 minutes, you? Already sounds better than the last one
Today we memorialize my orgasms. Taken from me over six months ago, gone too soon. Here's to hoping we'll see one again
All I remember thinking is, why the fuck are there martians on the ceiling? And they were riding fruit. Like strawberries and shit.
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