after he passed out we removed everything electronic from his room, stuck in some old books and an ancient typewriter from goodwill. for 20 min. we had him convinced he'd drunk himself backward in time.
Pretty sure God shed a tear when I put 15 singles in the collection plate.
His apology was sex and a subway sandwich. Strangely, I'm okay with that.
Plus my stomach has been speaking through my ass all day sending notes saying "fuck you" and "this is from your liver" or "i will kill you."
Now that there's no chance of him coming over to fuck anymore, I'm going to put up a one-person tent in my bedroom and live in it. My bed reminds me of him.
Teflon bitches. Nothing fucking sticks to this kid, not even a kid. Maury Povitched this shit outta that situation.
Sign she's a keeper: "I would rather be late to brunch than waste a perfectly good boner."
Don't be too mad at the guy who broke your kitchen table. Didn't get his name, but he knew all about your gay porn career. Like DETAILS...
Great sex, the promise of us mixing our excellent genetics in the future, and access to drugs are mainly what's holding this relationship together at the moment
You were discovered in a bush, smoking, and singing "in the jungle" to yourself. Which explains the scratches, but not the orange paint.
I just instagramed a picture of an ostrich in case you were wondering what I did with my night
I don't fucking know. I'm out stimulating the economy. Not locked in a room with a marker board.
Oh at the liquor store again?
I just need to stick to one night stands and delete social media
Holy Hangover.. I'm marrying whoever put this water by my bed
The Royals are in the World Series. I've never drank so much in one week in my life.
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