I pretty much can't stop smiling when I talk to you. Even when you talk about disease and infectious diarrhea.
He dyes his hair, fake tans and lies constantly. What did you really expect from him?
A better fuck for starters.
My nipple rings set off the metal detector at the courthouse this morning.
I'm so prepared to puke on walk of shame tomorrow that I'm putting a toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse the night before. And to think, my dad thought I wouldn't make it in college.
That last minute feeling of hesitation on whether I should bring my health card to the bar usually means I'm in for a good night.
I get that he's ugly and I deserve better but I will still beat up the girls he hangs out with.
All I know is I was dancing to Shakira in his alley and I think rubbing my junk on his car door.
Hooker in the library. I repeat, we have a hooker in the library. This is not a drill.
Dude, did you fall in a toilet on the way over here?
Was face down in one actually. Bars 2, Drew 0.
I just compared his sexting to a plate of spaghetti. And he STILL wants to sleep with me.
I just put Gatorade in my wine, cause electrolytes, you know.
Surprise court date day!!! Wake the fuck up!
So anyway, I'm just floating along life with my vibrator and low expectations.
Would you by any chance know if there is a proper protocol for traveling with one's vibrator? I wouldn't want the TSA to rip open my suitcase in front of my boss.
You have thirteen minutes to get here if you want to get back together. Otherwise I'm getting digits from the waitress.
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