Reflecting on last night, I'm not sure if making out with a 43 y/o married woman at Bernie's after the Cubs game was my best life decision...
i don't know whats more disturbing, that his dog drooled directly into my mouth or that i was too drunk and tired to do anything except let it be there.
nobody understood you. You kept speaking french and hiding shit in your boobs
my dad is going to jail this weekend
where are we going to get our weed from?
there is no excuse for him not showing up to my st. patrick's day party. i touch his dick. i get him on the high holidays.
He slow fucked me. Doggy style. On a porch. You never slow fuck doggy style. Its a law. A LAW.
I don't know what kind of soup they made, but it smells like condoms.
Fuck that. I will get OUT of CONTROL And rise from a hangover on Sunday like Jesus himself.
I rolled over and my thoughts became words and I said "oh fuck not you again" he didn't think that was too kind and asked me to leave
I got a blowjob dressed with a t shirt sweatpants and a Fanny pack. Not kidding.
she has that "i will punish you like your mom did" vibe, i think guys like that.
I told some guy on tinder, that apparently has a prosthetic leg, that I think we started off on the wrong foot. I hate myself...
Yeah last night got weird fast. No lie, a kid pulled a butt-plug with a tail out of his ass.
Where are you? Where am I? Why am I so red?
I woke up with a shot glass nestled between my boobs like a baby bird.
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