So, I woke up to an empty bottle of scotch and a dead car. The last thing I remember are the strippers being mad at me. Awesome night.
Feels good to be wearing underwear again though...
the only reason I knew his name is because half way through I looked up and it was tatooed on his chest.
FYI the landlord called and plumbers will be tearing up the bathroom tomorrow. Apparently the tub is leaking into the apt below us so be sure to pee in the shower today.
Right when he gets off the plane they're going straight to a party where you're only allowed in with a bottle of whisky and they are given bullet proof vests.
Don't think anyone else in the building has a lunchbox full of yay
Hey there's a sandwich in there too!
You always seem to be able to bribe me with tequila and Mac and cheese. This relationship of ours will cause me health problems someday.
I think we r still a few steps from ex sex. In fact, that's never going to happen. I'm just saying on the seething-chemical-fire-of-emotional-distress-to-post -relationship-intercourse scale, I'm closer to fucking than throttling. Progress is fun.
I don't care how great the sex was, I cannot unsee what has been seen. I regret ever stalking his Facebook.
I feel like a pet sloth would complement my lifestyle.
The smell of mosquito spray completely ruined the sex.
So what happened? Or does sex + ramen pretty much cover it?
To be fair, this is a tequila-while-rewatching-Benedict-Cumberbatch-as-Van-Gogh idea, so I don't know if it will hold up tomorrow.
Did that sound smart? Cuz beneath the boozy exterior beats the heart of a fucking scientist.
Its amazing how creative youll get when your house has been out of toilet paper for a week and a half
I know he’s married, but he’s still a guy with balls and a dick. He noticed my cleavage and stared at my ass. He’ll call.
Randomize
