i wouldnt be suprised if in indian your name meant "walking lie"
Call me back. I want to hear your side of the dead cat in my garage story.
my phone is just a graveyard for last nights mistakes. at least it's giving me hints as to where i was though, i'm like carmen sandiego
after he handcuffed me and put me in the back seat, "Mrs. Officer" started playing, I thought maybe this could be my escape
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I may have a concussion but the symptoms are the same as a hangover so I can't tell. Best 21st ever.
he rolled over in his sleep, called me a hoe and then grabbed my crotch. some things never change, asleep or not.
well when mom kept referring to my "black hole of a vagina" and how i devoured all the nuts at the party like i was a pro, i figured my stay was up.
i love you. like a brother. a brother that i had sex with more than once.
I now own a bag of cigarettes and have no purse, awesome
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He's trying to marry me, when is the appropriate time to tell him my real name and that Dallas is a completely fictitious slutty alter ego? I need the advice of someone with morals.
meanwhile at my house I found 2 bud heavys in the back of my book shelf crammed between a Franklin book and goodnight moon
I'm like 'WOMAN, YOU'RE 62, RESHEATH THOSE COUGAR CLAWS.'
I don't think Buddha would recommend a sexscpade across Mexico
Who the fuck puts glitter on their vagina? It’s all over my face and crotch.
You started singing Baby Shark, screamed you have no idea how it goes, then somehow turned the beat into Bohemian Rhapsody
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