So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
Most the numbers in my phone are mistakes. It's a virtual graveyard of people I should never pick up for.
Okay I woke up in my room, snuggie on, had a water bottle in my hand my tv was on Disney channel and my cigarettes are gone. And I deleted every text in my phone but one that said 'you are absolutely welcome'
don't let me wipe my vag with a dirty leaf outside of mcdonalds ever again.
I promise a much better performance tomorrow than last night my penis has a bed time
AND OMG I HOPE YOU ARE GREAT WITH CHILD. COOK THAT BUN!
You know summer is almost over when ur school booty calls start hitting u up as if solidifying their spot in drunken mistakes for next semester
At second job interview this week. Wearing pants to hide pole dancing bruises. This my life.
Would it be sharing too much to tell you that my nipples hurt so much that I couldn't comfortably go down the stairs?
If I got to choose how I die, it would be in an Olympic sized pool of gin and tonic.
I snapchatted him 4 pictures of me as Tarzan's dad so if he never talks to me again at least we'll know why
I can still be you friend and be there for you. And sometimes get drunk and fuck you.
MY HISTORY TEACHER IS FUCKING MY MOTHER. I am downstairs and i can hear the squeak of the bedsprings please I swear to god pick me up THIS INSTANT.
its like i get a dick upgrade with every new guy i screw, at this rate i'm scared to see my next one
Remember that pair of super cute shorts I pooped in? I miss those 😔
Randomize
