last night was a success...if success means i don't remember the guy's name and my panties are somewhere in the parking lot behind the bar
She's 40ish and I couldn't wake her up with a stick of dynamite. My sheets are going to be covered in glitter lotion and smell like grape vodka and shattered dreams tomorrow.
Aren't divorce parties fun?
You and I have very different definitions of fun.
Don't really want to talk about it. You were right. She had a whole jar of toenail clippings on her nightstand that she chews on "when her fingernails are too short." Direct quote.
I woke up, not remembering how or when or why i was even there and looked over to find Steph spooning with an adult black man.
Drinking in an igloo changes everything.
So i guess i slapped the girl sitting next to me leg and said "You know what they say, got fat legs...you gotta fat BOX"
I shouldn't have had sex with her. I feel that I may have opened a pandora's vagina
At one point, the guy you were fucking high-fived with the guy I was fucking. We should hang out with them again?
In light of your oncoming completion of twenty-three years of personhood, I feel a pressing need to blast country-pop phenomenon Taylor Swift's hit single "22" in your general direction until midnight.
all a girl really needs is a few good pair of leggings and a drug dealer that delivers.
And then before we had sex he was quoting space jam to me
i had to call the bar to ask if they found my bowling ball. That good of a night
I feel like a dancer trapped in the body of a math instructor. Love, Mom
he's fucking insane. he's worse than me. is that even possible? I'm only with him because his dick is huge. I need Jesus.
We’ve got a propane heater on our back porch if you want to come over and eat a McRib in peace
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