Dude. I just woke up without a shirt or bra on. Apparently I fell asleep with a quesadilla in my mouth. I can feel my liver hating me.
Damn. That makes sense
I know im like the sherlok holmes of sexual problems
I sat down with you and helped you write your will last night. I was THAT convinced that you weren't waking up.
Please stop leaving drunk voicemails with your new black/Irish accent.
You were jumping on the trampoline and screaming that you couldn't feel the fire.
I think you have the right to know, the water bottle you drank out of the other night is the bottle we use to catch what drips from the toilet. Love you!
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'm actually not sure I need to run today, between the crazy monkey sex and breaking into my own house.
My nonexistent future grandchildren will one day ask me when I knew I'd lost control of my life. And now I know.
A stripper just invited me to her daughter's birthday. Where did my life go wrong?
And my nipple is sore from him biting it. That is not a complaint.
I have to estimate how long it takes them to get to the bedroom so that I can sneak out of my room and get snacks. If she's anything like me, they're in bed the second he gets here and I can get snacks now
It's Valentine's Day, I figure for sure we'll have sex today, right? Wrong. I tried unsuccessfully for like an hour to get him to fuck me. Now he's asleep and I'm on my way to join the public library.
Sorry I can't pick up... thought process is fine but too stoned to form words.
because nothing says “let’s fucking rage” like getting a compensation letter and some company stock
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