I'm jammin out to some Brit Birt, she's still my bitch, I love her crazy ass
she looked me in the eyes and called me a poet because i was singing lady gaga, then she fell over...
The mexican place next the the funeral home has dollar margaritas, our grandfather would want us to act on this... trust me i know.
I'm doing it for my vagina. You should understand that
It came up in court that I told the arresting officer my name was Thomas Jefferson, and I was born in 1776. I almost kept a straight face. Almost.
What a dumb baby whore.
I texted him that I wanted to be more than fuck buddies so when I came over he gave me a punch card. He takes me I dinner every 10 fucks.
Nothing like hearing "I found your pinky nail" before you even noticed it was missing.
I'm still pretty stoned. There are mini rice cakes in my robe pocket to snack on in the shower.
At least I'm fat on the outside. You can NEVER change being fat on the inside.
On another note, I feel like my vagina is slowly being peeled off with a rusty potato peeler.
I gave you keys to my house and drugs. This must mean we're in a relationship.
I tried to help you up but you said "let me dance it off"
Don't forget my pants whenever you come over, otherwise we can't get in.
the police dropped me off. that's how my night went.
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