I'm at some bar in brklyn... just made out with a guy named Owen.
He is a pre-school teacher... just sang me a song about weather.
I dont think problem is the right word. Problems arent something you enjoy. Life would be too boring without gambling.
I told him I would sleep with him if he could name all the colors of the wind.
There are babies in the room i shouldnt be high with babies in the room.
We stole a cat. That is all you need to know.
I have to bobbypin his pubes for us to have sex. The other day he wanted me to braid them.
He is like a dragon that makes me want to spread my butt cheeks, so he can fill me with hot fire.
im actually so stoned and hungover i feel like a bag of jello stuffed into a human shape
From now on I forbid you to refer to it as a "bed". From now on you must only use the phrase "sex wagon".
i officially have over $300 in my bank account. that's a year's worth of chipotle.
No, the moral of my Oxford interview was "Never snort caffeine pills".
He gave me twenty cool ranch tacos and declared, drunk, " Look, I do good"
sex on a roof was cool and all but that superhero argument was the best part of the night hands down
I'm sorry, but the bed has won this battle. I got up, changed my shirt, combed my hair, put on some deodorant, and then looked at my bed and got back in
Come as you are, bitch. Glitter and vodka provided.
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