i upgraded from drunk texts to drunk e-mails...real world here i come
dont like to call her my roomate, too cordial. i refer to her as the whore that was assigned to live with me
She had a little wicker basket of condoms by her bed. Disturbing yet convenient.
I still have your handprint on my ass. You're not allowed to ignore me yet.
Even his old football coach jokes about how big it is. I don't want to be alone in a room with him and that monster.
#1 RULE OF DRINKING: DELETE YOUR EX'S NUMBER FROM YOUR PHONE
Dude, you chugged an entire bottle of tomato sauce and got us free drinks for the night. No way was I gonna stop you.
Called my dealer in tears and we talked for an hour until I felt better. That's the way it should be.
I want to get my vag crammed with complete loss of every bit of dignity I have left by this man from every angle on every flat surface that exists. That is all.
You just can't come from being "the girl who shit her pants."
We are buying drugs from a guy with a Jesus fish on his dodge caravan.
I can't tell if my bong is gender-neutral or not
I want you to know that the guy who peed in your bed got fat.
Is it bad that I like to have a guy to flirt with in every class? I feel like it's excellent motivation: to shave, to shower and to show up.
Is texting an old booty call with "can you still get your ankles behind your ears?" an appropriate way to reemerge into the singles scene???
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