The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
angela screamed across the room SHES A CHAMP when i told the pharmacist plan b doesnt make me throw up
woke up next to her writing my name in some journal. apparently she makes every guy she hooks up with sign out.
I walked outside out to find her peeing in her toga with a cigar in one hand and her thong in the other
I know it's not technically the "Mile High Club" but we def need a name for the airport bathroom. Cuz that just happened.
10/10 dentists agree that he is one bangable mother fucker. hint: i am all of these dentists.
like, you weren't just lying there, you were wrapped in what appeared to be the skin of a wolf, chanting doomsday prophecies
THE END IS NEIGH
& he told me that I give the best head ever.. like can I get that on a medal?
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
Are you ok?!
I assume I've stopped bleeding because I haven't passed out, but can't verify currently.
The clothing optional portion of the night began around midnight. Then we did disgusting things to each other. It was beautiful.
You don't feed me, fuck me, or fulfill me.
How are you feeling today?
Like Satan handed me a grenade and ass sandwich.
I woke up on the couch screaming in pain. I don't know how ended up there or why my foot was double the size. all I know is I'm now in a cast and never drinking tequila again. worst hangover ever.
Real life skills section of my resume: blow jobs, food knowledge trivia, sarcasm, mascaera application, sexting, tolerance of rail liquors
Randomize
