This is your Morning Wood Report: I have it.
His internet searches, listed chronologically: sex slave, volunteer sex slave, lava
The freshman came home at 9 this morning with one heel, no pants, and a strangers sweatshirt covered in tequila-scented vomit. I think we're done corrupting her for a while.
Max was wondering if he could trade you sex for the use of your jumper cables
He made fire alarm noises before throwing up all over the street.
In hindsight, the torn ligament in my knee is probably the fault of the ginbucket and jager bombs starting at 3pm. I guess I'll stop blaming it on you.
No hurry on coming over. My body currently wants everything on the inside to be on the outside. But really. Don't hurry.
Last night I had sex with one of the groomsmen I was in the wedding with. In a stairwell. 13 years my senior. Thinking I should retire from the bridesmaid gig.
I almost just texted "I'm lonely" to my gynecologist.
It's like the blind leading the senile over here.
UPDATE: shit just got real- grandma is threatening to beat grandpa with a wooden spoon covered in chili.
The bond between me and cheese is something no man can understand.
How much do souls cost? I feel like I need one if those.
I had my first "Damn Kids/When I Was That Age" rant at work today. We need to drink this feeling out of me. NOW.
That shit was hard as fuck. It felt like a mountain entering my vagina.
I feel like my life just hangs in the balance of "Yeah I'm probably not doing this right"
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