Whatever it was. it was pregnant.
By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
repeat this after me. period at the beach is better than baby at the beach. breathe. and: period at the beach is better than baby at the beach.
There's some drunk girl alone in the field, she looks like she could use some help.
Also it's only fair that you know that that girl is me.
I respect you for how well you shave your vagina. It isn't easy and my dick faces out, not in.
Sorry I forced you to take an adderall at 1am and then proceeded to dance to Lose Yourself outside of Qdoba.
I just stood up and am wasted. I think I just admitted to my mom that I am trying to fuck everyone in New York because they're skinny and ethnically ambiguous. Meanwhile, happy hour isn't over yet.
It was like the Alcoholic Olympics...double fisting fifths with eight 40s in my backpack...running from the cops in stilettos. I will have bitchin' hamstrings come Monday.
I can only take thier stupid "I think beauty school is for me" routine so long until I have to bitch slap them with some knowledge
I can't come tonight. Someone took a shit in the dressing room. A.) Clean it up or B.) Kill myself. Text back with your answer.
I hate to stick you with the friend but I did all the work.
I might volunteer to give breath samples on the 17th where I would be required to get drunk and then give samples! THE POLICE WOULD PAY ME AND PROVIDE THE ALCOHOL!
Idk if I deserve a medal or a one way ticket to hell
Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving like running into your ex boyfriend at the liquor store at 3 in the afternoon.
I’m getting back at my ex and training my new boy toy how to properly satisfy a woman. I’m killing two birds with one dick.
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