you kept running across the street. everytime you made it across successfully you took something off. can't believe there were no cops around...
oh thats it?
tequila makes my crab dance SOOOO much better
so just incase you wake up on the couch wondering how you got there--you came home at 7am, put ice in a cup--then you proceeded to put the cup in the microwave and melt it because you "wanted water". you then, fell down the stairs while saying "you don't know me" then crawled to the couch.
there's a sign at taco bell and it says "bacon and ranch make everything better." it speaks to me.
I really wish I had added "blowjob on a slide at a playground" to my bucket list before last night.
I hope you don't have to start the day explaining to me how you failed to turn "Can I practice my belly dancing in your apartment" into all night sex.
And the horses in Central Park have blankets. And Rafiki just told me "it is time" in the back of our cab.
Pictures of drunk me in a bike helmet are like McDonald's collectible toys. There's sooo many, but NO ONE has seen all of them.
Ugh. The fucking vaginal recession is so real right now.
First thing I find in the car I just pick up from my grandpa? A discount card for the strip club down the road from his apartment. The force is still strong.
I feel like I don't show you my boobs enough. And you deserve to see them like all the time
Of course he's seen my tits, I wave those things around like a trump supporter does an American flag
I think even the taco bell employees judged me
What do you mean relationship? He paid for my tires and I gave him a blow job.
You don't know happiness until you've got to smoke weed inside taco bell and then eat all you want for free
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