I'm at a Mexican Walmart. Wish you were here.
we're getting ready to take strippers to breakfast. I love my life.
I don't understand how he can't hear himself snoring, but he'll wake up to me sneaking m&m's from my junk food stash beside the bed...
im pretty sure one of the guys i was dancing with at graffiti wrote on my back "you rock". now feel like a danced with a 5 year old.
we went through the mcdonalds drive through and you asked for a free sample of their fries to see how you liked them.
Just got done reading an 11 page essay for class. Took me three fucking days and the only thing I have highlighted is the name "Alexander Cockburn"
He's spent his last 3 years working at Urban Outfitters. No, I'm not sad I missed out on a life of mustaches, the dollar menu and shitty scarves.
Also, fighting a very strong urge to nickname your dick Whitey Bulger, at least for today.
I'm not considering your visit a success until we've fucked every cock in the ethnic rainbow...between the four of us we should have it done by x-mas
There was probably a tattoo above her soulless vagina that read 'it's a trap!' Yet you ignored it
struggle bus is officially taking me on a road trip to hell. If this is just the first destination, I'll jump out the fucking window.
My dad just accidentally taught me how to make fake IDs. I love my life.
Maybe. I want to have sex at the fire station, most likely on one of the trucks. I wonder if I can finagle that before I tire of the spelling and grammatical errors in his texts.
Heard flapping noises behind me. It was my roommate flapping her bathrobe like wings, saying "I'm a faaaiiiiry."
No. I'm home alone and 100% dickless. I hate my life.
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