I just came to the conclusion that the most depressing part of my day is when I have to put clothes on.
Any day that starts with a call from my ex-bf... crying... is a good day.
There is a distinct lack of front teeth here.
It's what America was founded on: former hookups referring you for a job four years later.
I had a moment while I was smoking where I was looking at these palm trees and I knew how dr Seuss came up with his characters.
110% paid for our cab with a lap dance
no dude free pina colada`s taste like what I would expect my penis to taste like except gay-er.
I woke up with my panties in the cat food dish, and everything covered in honey and bruises.
"Wine night with the girls" turned into me having to set an alarm in the bathtub this morning...
I can't remember much from that party after we snapchatted my dancing boobs to all of her contacts
I can't believe I forgot to wish you a happy 13 week-iversary of the time you raw-dogged a rando. Only two days late, so it still counts. And since your 14 weeks is coming up, you should know that at 14 weeks your baby can squint, frown, grimace, pee, and possibly suck his/her/their/zir thumb!
I think I died and satan has brought me back to life and I'm paying for my sins with this hangover
People are talking politics and I have had 9 mimosas
A million fucking miles away, and the sun still manages to fuck my hungover mornings up.
Think of it as a business transaction. That's how I justify all the horrible things I do. Blow my married boss? Just a business transaction.
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