There is something just so refreshing and wonderful about an uninterrupted morning poop in the office.
He just randomly started talking about Haiti and Conan O'Brien and his grandpa's hip replacement operation. It was the worst phone sex I've ever had.
I thought I broke my iPhone. I was almost as depressed as the day I broke my vibrator.
I'll tell you what, we couldn't have asked for better binge-drinking weather.
I don't care how hot he got, I can't get past the PTSD flashbacks of the first time he fingered me
I couldn't get past the raccoon on my porch so i slept on my lawn.
As I was brushing his cum out of my hair he looks at me and says "it happens to me all the time."
All I've eaten today is cookie dough, pecan pie and three shots of jack. Finals week here I come.
How's the hangover?
I've been begging my dog to mercy kill me for over an hour. He has this look like he might do it, you know, as my best friend should.
The inside of my nose has felt like the guy's face falling off from raiders of the lost ark all week
I managed to get through my meeting without throwing up in someone else's office, so there's that for an accomplishment today.
I have the overwhelming need to take care of him. Both with my vagina and like emotionally.
I guess it's part of life. Sometimes your ex boyfriend becomes a drag queen.
You know, you could always move. Lol somewhere without gators, water moccasins, and Marco Rubio.
Whatever douche. I sucked the dick that made you. I. Win.
Randomize
