i was texting myself key events from last night so i could remember this morning. looked at my phone, texted my mother instead. our numbers differ by 1 digit
if you google earth my address you can see me getting out of my car. finally my moment of being famous
I asked about his 3 inch scar on his chest. It's from when he had to castrate a bull on the estancia. Apparently this is how good bull meat is made.
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
That reminds me...we need to get swords
At least I know she didn't hear me crawl to my room. Or did I walk on my hands? Fuck if I know.
Sometimes I look at the people in school that are obviously very diligent and on top of their studies, and then I wonder why they don't smoke weed.
I need a Xanax. A Veggie Delight. And exhibition style sex.
At one point I thought we were going to have to fuck our way out of their apartment
You just can't come from being "the girl who shit her pants."
Maybe I'll make your dreams come true and pee on you tomorrow.
We call it "Dishes: Hard Mode". Basically whoever is doing dishes gets head but needs to finish the dishes before they cum.
And so far nothing been broken!
All I know is I want him to tie me up at least twice a week and I have an overwhelming urge to cook for him. Could this be love? I'm so confused....
I asked the cop if I could see his dick- It's not like he could arrest me twice.
I think my boss gives me work off weekends because he doesn't want me showing up hungover anymore..
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