Locked out of the apartment with just a box of wine way to begin the weekend.
THE PICTURE OF PEPPERMINT MOCHA MADE ME WANT TO TOUCH MYSELF
I've been here 20 minutes and some creepy old man told me he wanted to know what my insides felt like. I hate gay bars.
Why would he get rid of a girl with no gag reflex? I don't get it.
Baffled as to how I'm gonna get 150lbs of sand out of my basement.
He said my breasts were God's way of making up to him for all the shit he's had to endure in his life.
Someone better explain the burnt stove marks on my bed.
I usually just read books and meditate to an aquatic soundtrack of sea walrus's mating. But ill choose coors light instead
Bring gay.
By that I meant the rum. I just realized that my request made no sense. You always bring gay.
Who knew there were so many rules and judgements about laying on a kitchen floor. I'm all like I'm resting. It just happens to be on a kitchen floor.
He offered me a trade. He'll come sober to my parents 25th anniversary dinner if I let him tie me up for an hour.
Update. bondage is a lot harder than it looks.
He is getting married. In the time it took for this conversation he probably cheated on her three times
Current status: Finding an unwrapped portion of Subway sandwich in my purse at the pharmacy counter & picking pieces of tomato off my wallet while the pharmacist watches disdainfully.
Did you offer her some?
If only. Current status: Not that clever.
The alcohol tastes like we did a beer run at the nail salon
Fuck this. I'm adopting 12 cats and naming them after the 12 disciples. Maybe Jesus will have sympathy for me then.
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