I'm tuning in to watch Heidi Montag crash and burn on the Miss Universe Pageant. Somebody call 911. and I'm not talking about the Sean Kingston song.
Topless wife handwashing shirt. Tonight marriage is good.
at home by myself drinkin the left over champagne from my party... who says my birthday has to end?
i slept with him so i could steal the screens out of his sink faucets for my bowl when he went to sleep. not because he's funny.
I mean, we do coke and have sex occasionally...I wouldn't call that a relationship.
He appeared on my 7th floor fire escape and sang to me and jimmy through the window when we fucked. He's like a drunken mix of Sinatra and Spiderman.
What can I say? When alcohol is my motivation, I can move mountains.
You need to tell him your pregnant or we need to stop playing doubles beer-pong. My liver is begging you.
His dick is hereby named Charles Dickens. Will's is less cerebral. I'd like to call it Pinnacle like the vodka we drank when we hooked up, but I feel like that's a compliment it doesn't deserve.
I just did a jell-o shot with my grandmother. I can die now..
Rob and I are cross faded and the only one taking care of us is a drunk person who's making us dance.
I need vodka mixed w a bit of holy water right now
There's a dryer on fire at the laundromat, and everyone's just standing around taking pictures. Except me. I'm texting.
I'm gonna adopt her diet plan of secretly sleeping w a desperate ex... It combines excersise & loss of appetite due to guilt
You don't understand. This boy has the Mona Lisa of cocks.
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