In case you were wondering, my scare crow is wearing your outfit from last night.
This dude. Just lost. A finger. He asked us for tape.
My glasses are somewhere in your living room. Also, my underwear might be in your bathroom or on or around your porch. Sorry.
you referred to yourself as the crossing guard because of your neon shirt and began directing bar traffic
I'm sitting in the corner at the bar with a poolstick in case a brawl breaks out. Some crazy shit is going down and I'm trying to show my feathers like a horny peacock.
So I fucked her. If you're keeping score at home, it's all tied up with horrible sex with someone I like and great sex with someone I hate both with 1.
Hey man, I found your crocs and your visor in the road. Got em for you.
I just totok an inventory of my purse: 1 apple, 1 pair of underwear, 7 condoms, $18 in ones, a check with "for sexual healing" in the subject line, and a 4 oz bottle of wine.
Oh! and a letter from a judge saying I got an interview. Cause that balances it out.
When I tell my children how I survived hurricane Sandy I'll probably leave out the threesome
He made me brush his hair afterwards because it made him feel like a ken Barbie.
God I hope the sex was good.
It's like my life is one of those movies where after a bunch of outlandish events that only happen in a movie the girl realizes her true life calling and lives a great life with a sexy man of multiple races. But I'm stuck in the fucked up part where 25 year olds come in their pants.
It's whatever. Titanic is about to be on and we have wine, which is basically crying juice. Leo, Kate, and I will be having a lovely, pants free evening.
Being single is awesome because I can still drink a bottle of wine and hate myself, but I don't have to shave my legs!
I texted him in the morning wishing him a day as spectacular as his dick was.
He and his ex stood there talking about going to get Chinese food while I was half naked searching for my panties
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