Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
it's 4 am, i'm drinkin beer and re-drywalling my bathroom. this could possibly be a bad idea.
I just puked in an auto zone parking lot. I'm never eating peanut butter and red wine for dinner again.
i think i will get a tattoo on my butt that says "im not bluffin with my muffin", but i guess if i was serious, i would get it above my c-section scar
I will now attempt to shave my public hair into a Christmas tree.
Like my mouth was on his pelvis connected to his balls that's how far it was
i woke up in his neighbors pool house. Not sure how I got here but there is people swimming outside. how do I escape?
just fucking run.
after she rolled over and said 'i'm so glad you're like my gay best friend, love you' then left. did i just get friendzoned AFTER sex??
He's a psychology major, so instead of becoming a stripper, I'm just working out my daddy issues with him. And his cock. And spankings.
They're much more educational now btw. Don't judge.
i just love the holidays, i hotboxed a gingerbread house last night
Woke up naked with a post-it that said "don't ask questions" on my ass...i know im not supposed to ask but uhm what did I do?
Well we can add this to the list of 'where the hell did that bruise come from?'
:(. i have vodka in a fire extinguisher. that solves all problems. except fires. it would actually make that worse.
On the plus side, he ate me out and gave me an orgasm. But he also talked about robots during sex and mispronounced it like the dad in the goldbergs and called them “robits”
If I look at him, he starts sobbing. Please come get him; he's scaring the cats.
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