i am sick of getting naked and seeing how fat i am.
I'm jammin out to some Brit Birt, she's still my bitch, I love her crazy ass
if all i could do was poop and smoke weed, i'd be eternally happy
amen to that sister
stuffed animals make me feel really maternal.
I stopped in the middle of puking to wish you a happy birthday, so by default it means a lot.
He's tweaking out . If he's on fucking bathsalts and eats my face like a chalupa pull the plug. I don't want to live with no fucking face. Pull. The. Plug.
According to him, i kept saying "I'm belligerent as SHIT" and tried to run around the house in just my bra and underwear. Thats when they decided to carry me to the car and take me home.
Seriously, don't even. "Hi, have I seen you half naked covered in bright red body paint on the internet?" is NOT acceptable water-cooler chit-chat.
Aw.
I'd apply for another job, but "staring out windows crying" is not a hot qualification right now.
There's like a dolphin trainer convention here or something. I will parlay this trip to Vegas into riding Shamu if its the last thing I do.
CRAIGSLIST IS NOT THE ANSWER
IM LONELY AND HORNY
Floor bacon is actually really good
Anyways enough about genital fatigue...
test was negative. but nancy drew has yet to solve the case of the missing period.
When you're as high as I am right now brushing your teeth is both magical and fucking terrifying
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