Nothing ended up happening last night because he couldn't get my overalls or fanny pack off. I woke up this morning with one strap over my overall shorts on, my fanny pack wrapped around my chest, and the baby doll still tied to my hand. Ugh white trash parties!
Just had sex in the basement of the library... I knew I was paying $120,000 for something more than a law degree
Can we end it on a good note at least? Can we fuck and then never talk again?
So was it you or me who decided it was a good idea to inscribe fuck you on the counter?
That was me. Just a 'welcome to our home' kinda thing.
I'm so confused. I feel like I just intentionally took roofies to see where I'd end up.
They can be so fun, drunk bruises are like clues to the treasure of what actually happened last night. "why do I have a bruise on my belly button? oh right. i was trying to turn my stomach off so I would stop throwing up."
Besides the flaccid incident, it was decent. Average sized. So this is my life now. Loneliness and lackluster sex.
The weed is temporarily burning the grammar section of my brain library.
And then we can spend New Year's Day sprawled across the tiles watching greys anatomy and puking into the bushes over the balcony. It'll be great
Did we pole dance in front of my boss last night or was it just me?
The album on my phone containing gross pictures to send when boys ask for nudes is now substantially larger than my normal photo album. Because I send one every night
I was christened with Fireball shots by some guy at the bar. I'm practically Jesus now.
I don't think I used nearly enough fucks in my reply to convey the level of fuck him.
You owe me a one night stand and a line. Possible an inflatable flamingo as well. And a caesar salad.
Is it sad that my idea of a quality foursome would involve one person eating me out while the other two rub my feet?
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