hey babe thanks for tonight, it was fun.
to be honest, i wanna fuck your friend.
I'm having a chugging contest on the streetcar. The driver is judging.
Plus someone just passed me a joint through the window. BEST STREETCAR RIDE EVER
Drunk. I slept-stripped.
By myself.
I don't care how hot he got, I can't get past the PTSD flashbacks of the first time he fingered me
She barfed in the corner of the baby pool. Then she yelled "it's okay" repeatedly while trying to scoop it out.
It's great when the cashier at the liquor store asks "weren't you wearing those clothes yesterday"
she's like the billy mays of hookups...touch my boobs and i'll throw in this blow job ABSOLUTELY FREE
We crashed a rave, threw glitter all over Gay Dan and the bartender, broke a chandelier and called ourselves the Kings of Neon.
View of Vancouver Bay is obscured though the greasy hand prints from fucking against the window. Tip maid well.
And the prospective student I was showing around had to take care of me.
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
i am no longer ashamed when i walk into the dining hall for sunday brunch and i'm greeted with applause for suriving my weekend
At 3:00am my whole house started smelling like cooking meat. I have no idea why she thought it was a good idea to crock-pot a WHOLE turkey that early in the morning.
Sorry i ignored you for so long. I think my vibrator is broken.
I smell like cotton candy and guilt.
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