It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
Just got my period. I'm not pregnant with Scott's child and I won't be having any sex tonight. This must be what they mean by bittersweet.
Tequila bombs in champagne seemed like a good idea at the time.
Somehow it went from suicide to pierced nipples. I think we're good.
Walking into the first day of college is like walking into a meat market. A meat market of sex.
I just encountered the same creepy guy I showed you, he jumped inside the dumpster screaming.
It's like they're playing jeopardy and the category is "things that make women dry."
Get up, biotch, before I come traipsing in there to rip apart whatever god-forsaken spoon you have going on between the two of you and your dog.
Want to go swimsuit shopping? First one who cries buys ice cream.
I made that picture of you my lock screen. So I've just been standing around at work licking my phone all day.
I basically gave Miranda rights to the guy I hooked up with, jus so we were all clear what was happening
well whats the tarot card for I'm totes going to be schlobbing his cob? because that's in his future.
I got dropped off at my house at like 1030. Woke up hugging a street cat I've never seen before. Ended up drinking 260 oz of beer. 65 types. Then went out after blehhhhhh
We fucked. Had a political debate. I won. So I sat on his face.
I just got a snapchat of a flaccid penis with the caption "happy belated valentine's day." What did I do to deserve this
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