I found the seven page love letter I had written you. I'm sorry i was so obsessed.
I feel like a fucking princess. Like an heiress of a kingdom of drugs.
All I can remember is being told by a guy named Kyle to stay in the corner until the cops left. Then waking up on a porch outlined in beer cans 8 blocks from my house. Pregaming for college.
I think I found out what we're going be for Halloween....Alcohol poisoning victims.
When I got up in the middle of the night, puked in his trash can, and snuck out the front door, I pretty sure he knew it was over.
I sold weed for gas money to get home. I thought that's what college was for.
sooo I am sorta kinda using your name as my stripper stage name.
You grinded and hooked up with a middle aged tiger woods look-a-like with manboobs. Tequila isn't for you.
A conundrum I think only you would understand: how to classily post "I need a ride to the liquor store" on one's Facebook wall?
Something about Sunday night screams phone sex
So how exactly do I backtrack from motorboating and ass grabbing?
I AHVE A WINE BUCKETTTTTTT
You are driving me to get new toys, i am test driving them on the way home.
We are taking your truck.
I dunno what to tell you sport. Short of having a shock collar on, you're gonna wanna hook up with people.
She called and said she was waiting for me naked. I got there and she was in ratty sweats, sitting in Nick's lap, with divorce papers. Needless to say my night was shitty.
Randomize
