What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
I don't know if it's the amount i drank last night or the number of taylor swift statuses on facebook but i feel like puking everywhere
There are a bunch of guys at the door looking for the guy you brought back to the condo...pretended not to speak English. You're welcome.
He just texted me asking if I remember pinching his eyelid shut with my eyelash curler.
Fuck a-yeah! I just found a wine key. Let 'Don't Fuck With Me Friday' commence.
How do you feel?
Like the devil himself shit me out, baked me into a pie, ate the pie, and shit me out again.
Let's just say I've never been so continually aware of my nipples before.
I ran into his family and they made me a ham sandwich and I asked if they wanted to come streaking. I felt they deserved the invite.
I have an epic ass bruise from a wheel tonight and I am drunk now because I decided vodka heals all wounds.
He sent me a selfie with his cat. He has found a way to my heart. And pants.
you started shaking the frozen steak while screaming "THIS IS CAPITALISM" before rubbing it all over your chest and passing out on your dog
*goes to show prof a picture* *forgets tit pic is in camera roll*
If I'm gonna have a rotation of guys, I really should stop them leaving boob bruises...
So your telling me I can lick your ass but you CAN'T spend my money
I wish he’d realize all I want is dick. He’s my boytoy. He’s a stunt cock. \n\nCome over, fuck me silly, eat some leftovers, fuck me again, then go back to the frat house
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