Just got Netflix. Dexter Marathon. Still in my PJ's. Only eaten cookie dough and drinking a 40. I have never reeked so strongly of lonely .
Couldn't get it up. She asked me what she was doing wrong. Didn't have the heart to tell her. I appreciated her willingness to adapt, but she's pretty much gonna look that bad her whole life.
We are, if nothing else, classy enough to leave our 10 mini bottles of wine in a polite line on the floor of the movie theater.
how did my horoscope know i was too hungover to operate a stove.
Repeat. Dildo on the ceiling, confiscated potato shooter, and bottle of yegger. Repeat. Ceiling dildo and yegger.
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
I believe in weed hangovers. To say the least.
I wish the guy I was sleeping with wasn't on house arrest.
So I guess I bought a cat last night. Fuuuccckkk.
ok so i took my anxiety medication and i'm eating junior mints and i think my vagina will be ok
i swear to god it was like we were fucking in 9 dimensions
it's like the easy bake oven version of plastic surgery
She handed me scissors and told me that they were the ones with the lowest probability of having been used to trim someone's pubes.
My vagina cried when he left. I think she's about to be at war with my self respect.
Watching South Park, doing sit-ups and drinking tequila. In other words, my night is going pretty good.
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