I just used a franzia box to scrape the snow off my car.
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
Seriously, I was a high class hooker. I was snorting shit Rachel, white powder, lines formed with credit cards, the dudes house was beautiful. Magnum condom. Adorable puppy dog. Pretty sure at some point I was sleeping on a washing machine. Boxing Gloves.
Those were the highlights of my night.
I'd like to bring you 40 virgins and treasure chests of gold to make you feel better
My shoe was in my mailbox this morning. I can't stay sober today.
I think I should just accept my destiny that I'm going to be someone's second wife
My tits sealed my fate
Woke her up in the middle of the night with the smell from a fart. So proud of my colon.
That's not a current picture, because if you look deep enough into my eyes you can still see morals. Not these days.
Remember that girl from my stats. class that I ran into at the bar 2 weeks ago? She literally hasn't been to class once since I told her I sit behind her.
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
I'm facebook/twitter stalking the guy I just slept with as he's passed out next to me. What a time to be alive...
He doesn't have an existential crisis after we have really violent sex now which is nice
The list of people who didn't throw up last night is insanely smaller than the list of people who did
So it was a successful night I take it?
Yes please. My parents would fucking love him and I'd love fucking him. That's a win-win if I've ever seen one.
We blew shit up to. With a cannon.
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