I could write a book called "things that come out of my vagina"
Maybe i shouldn't have told him the key to getting in my pants was double vodka sodas and Nelly's song "grillz."
I took a bird feeder and filled it with alka-seltzer. Can you say fireworks?
My wrist bandage is guacamole stained. What an accurate representation of my life as a whole
at the last minute we also decided to throw an egg in the beer bong. and he drank it, shell and all.
found a cell phone. in the freezer. wrapped in bologna. explain?
I was worried he'd break you after the hiatus your lady parts had to take from social interaction.
For the record, it's NEVER ok to discuss my stripper-related injuries with my fiance.
I tried snowmobiling at 2 am. I broke my glasses. You're right. Things do get out of control.
I'm just trying to absorb as much of the fluids from the carpet as I can.
I'm to the point of desperation where I stare at customers penis imprints through their pants all day
I just had a 30-minute convo with an irrelevant fuckboy from college who decided to tell me FOUR years later he’s sorry for sleeping with 3 girls at once including me.
She is still drunk from the night before, sitting here eating KFC mashed potatoes and drinking Arbor Mist before Anatomy lab.
The lady at the liquor store in my hometown just gave ran around the corner and gave me a hug when I came back from being gone for a couple months. My life is complete.
Want to help me interview candidates to replace my Cub/Boy Toy when he leaves for grad school next month?
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