he opened up his "box of magic": a crusty tube of KY jelly, three expired condoms, a fingertip vibrater, and a jar of marshmallow fluff.
He only talks to me during the summer and it's probably because I let him fuck me in my pool last year.
I have your car and your sandals. My shoes are somewhere under the puke couch. Safari time.
He's cheating on her.
Are you sure it wasn't her?
I have my glasses on, and as long as she didn't change her face in the past two months; its her.
I stared at his lazy eye for so long, he thought I had one too. Then we bonded over our lazy eyes. I had to fake one all night. My head is fucking killing me. NEVER pretend to have a lazy eye.
My chest hair is, as we speak, arching upward to embrace my neck beard. The union will be a storied one.
Okay I can't even be mad, I'm in mid-plot to hook up with Michael Phelp's third cousin.
Nothing like grinding all night with a hot ethnic guy dressed as a clown to help conquer your phobia. Halloween is fucked up.
Your biggest crisis right now is that you can't decide whether to keep hooking up with AN NFL PLAYER or try to rekindle your relationship with your ex. You are a walking white girl problem.
Being sober is no fun. Karaoke and not wearing pants are not socially acceptable things to do anymore and this depresses me.
I don't have the resources to adequately explain this. I need like a Powerpoint presentation and also Vodka.
Damn it. If you ever throw me again, take video.
He has a beach house and a Simba tattoo. Our wedding is next Tuesday, hope you're free.
I need to stop acting like a porn star that isn't getting paid
Ever try to swallow something and have it go up into your nose instead? Yeah, I just sneezed bacon.
Randomize
