my ass just sighed. even my farts are tired.
And my awkwardness continues. I felt the need to send him a text that said roar. I did it.
but he used his one phone call to call mom and wish her happy mothers day, that's gotta count for somethin
her sex was completely horrible but her weed was great. imma ask her out again
The police scanner is talking about you again....
He tipped the stripper with quarters. After that not even the waitress would talk to us. I had to move to another table to get a lapdance
What can I say? When alcohol is my motivation, I can move mountains.
After seeing how much you are able to funnel in a night, I am 90% sure your blood is pure gin.
It feels like my uterus is trying to crawl out of my ass wearing cleats. And yourself?
And I just found out I called my debit card a fast food passport so I dont deserve to live
you're right. i am beautiful. like a May day. frolicking in a meadow of wildflowers. platinum in one hand. pipe in the other. that kind of beautiful.
I stood on the corner waiting to be picked up, dry heaving, and trying to block out the sun.
Mom got high last night and started crying because she feels bad for Paula Deen. This is my family.
Just woke up to find that I'd left a stove burner on for the past 6 hours or so. I'm now banned from Ambien cooking.
It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at.
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