Kanye's agent is the only person whose job sucks worse than mine.
He told me he was ok to drive home. Then I found him face-planted in the parking lot.
my history teacher totally just suggested that we record his lectures and play drinking games with them later so that we pay attention to the material.
I told him he was my first gentile. He was so flattered.
also: i found my "nug jug", actually the baby did, but either way it got returned to its rightful owner
I put a toilet paper roll with my number on it by his face... hooking up is not happening
Every time I think about it I can feel His toe in my mouth and I gag, I'm scarred for life.
I'm starting to think my role in the world is to inject batshit crazy, mentally unbalanced chicks with a dose of normal sperm.
SORRY BITCH CAN'T, TAKING SHOTS TO WHITNEY HOUSTON.
At least I remembered to wear a bra. I feel like that's a big accomplishment right now
somehow attending a funeral viewing turned into me snorting cocaine in the bathroom and drawing ninja turtles for children
I'm going to write a new song and call it "Did I wax my vagina for this?" remind me to never go across the country for a penis ever again.
I just bout myself an edible arrangement for myself and had it delivered to work. I even wrote myself a note. This is a new low for me.
Like, when both of your dads are drag queens you're bound to have some amazing Halloween makeup
I'm pretty sure he sprained my clit...
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