You know you love balls. Don't act all "I-Don't-Love-Balls-ish"
Don't feel too badly. Until twenty minutes ago my paper was a heading and a pizza order.
You left your underwear on the fireplace
You rolled around on the floor, yelled about being a "half-zombie" and bit that guy on the leg who was hitting on me.
theres too many punctuation errors in that text to turn me on.
I'm honestly considering asking her if I can eat her out, as a friend.
I'm not sure what exactly you were planning, but you kept yelling that we were going to need a lot of midgets and a lawyer.
I heard from the downstairs bathroom "WHY CAN'T I WIPE MY ASS IN PEACE!" and a pisscrate of glass bottles breaking
I'm smoking a bowl in my bathtub. I'm meant to be alone.
Most of my life can be described like an HBO prison drama.
I'm a stupid stupid woman who is totally going to rock this holiday season dick drunk on that Ginger
One day he'll find out I do drugs and stop talking to me.
What will you do then?
Drugs, probably.
college girl with braces trying to flirt with you...time to go
I texted him: “Come over for the Super Bowl. I promise lots of scoring.”
My divorce is turning into a porn script
Santi's no longer allowed to buy booze in my lane. Last thing I need is a midlife crisis looking at his Id again.
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