you sent me 5 happy birthday texts last night. one after the other. spelled differently.
clay aiken is like melissa ehteridge without the guitar.
There's some strange man with hair that keeps talking to us. I'm scared.
This is how horror movies start. Going to bar with strange hair guy. He's paying. Bad idea?
Ditched hair man. Got free cab ride to market. Want food. I win.
Say it nicely.
Fine. I want to lovingly bend you over and lovingly fuck the shit out of you. Happy?
She's the second Ashley to meet and blow me in the same night. Sensing a trend.
If I had really thought it through, I would have bought some Depends, popped one on and made this night my bitch.
I mean I sucked his dick at 3 AM... UNDERWATER. I think I have earned a follow back on twitter.
Goddamnit Shari. He's not called Pencil Dick because he's good a sketching...
I'm tired of being known as the Great Giver Goddess of the Almighty Pity Bone.
all i tweeted was "emergency this is not a drill" and he immediately texted me asking if this was a subtle booty call…it was
Honestly, I want an afternoon of mild abuse, mixed with face fucking and general molestation that turns in love making, laughter and cinnamon toast crunch naked in bed.
Everyday this week I have woken up to a different dick pic. It's like a dick pic a day calendar!
Pretty sure the delivery guy saw me taking a shit this morning
Just spilled beer all over my bed. Should cut myself off, but instead I just took my shirt off and used it as a towel.
Nothing says hangover like being in the doctors office getting a tampon removed from deep inside
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