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my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
If it makes you feel any better I'm plucking my mustahce and drinking. Alone.
I have had it with that bitchy sack of crazy. Iam done!
I have discovered something important. The trick to making food taste better is not always 'more hot sauce'.
There's a walmart bag of my vomit outside my front door. I just really need someone to appreciate that with me.
She passed out in my bed last night before anything happened. She felt really bad about that, so she gave me head when we woke up this morning.
He skyped me to learn how to roll a joint and for us to masturbate together. And you said a long distance relationship wouldn't work.
Dude, I'm importing a boy from Oklahoma for my divorce party. It's like doctors without borders, but with dicks.
He got tattooed, peirced, and we're pretty sure he got rufeed by that fat chick. He was like a walking spring break stereotype.
I am never taking advice from you again. The high heels in the shower were a bad idea. I orgasmed and almost drowned.
God you people are gross. Come collect your unconscious friend.
My lower body still feels like its been through a garbage disposal and a trash compactor. In that order.
I feel like I have two modes: Super fuckin high, or super giddy from caffeine. I have learned to accept this.
Let's get really high and wear fake mustaches and try not to laugh at each other...
I woke up to find my purse full of puke, and all I could think was not again.
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