I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
You were so drunk you tried to sell your salsa to everyone on the restaurant.
the only human I can compare her to is rosie o'donnell.
sticking your hands in the toilet to wash your face is not acceptable. ever. i don't care how drunk you are.
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Wait wait wait. I remember riding in her car to the next bar. On your lap. With my head on the dashboard. That probably should have been my cut off point.
Im pretty sure at one point a very high you yelled, with actual tears in your eyes, "im not wrestling with you anymore, you dont respect my safe word!!"
after the fucking you spent twenty minutes vomiting naked and shaking your dick at my roommates. luckily, i don't remember that, or i'd have to be really insulted.
In last nights drunken stupor i apparently purchased a luxury travel package for two to Australia. So uh...get a passport and clear your schedule for next month
it is basically gonna be an ugly Christmas sweater rave
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Will keep you updated on the sexual orientation of my new guy
He compared my vagina to his favorite T-shirt. I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not..
I wrote a pretty good eulogy, too. Motherfucker pastor had no sense of comedic timing.
Don't judge me. It's a Monday night and I can eat burritos in while bathing in the kitchen sink if I want to.
I feel like a weird modern Betty Crocker. I'm icing a cake and looking at gay porn, if that's not an accurate portrayal of the 21st century idk what is.
It's not even a normal fucking affair I've found myself in. It's a fucking bdsm clusterfuck.
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