Pants 0. Shit 1.
Just got a script for 120 vicodin with 6 refills. I feel like michael jackson.
I could make treat bags
just bought a 30 and sold it for $2 a can to some dumb ass high school kids. now lets buy two and get really drunk
the more i look through evidence of last night, the less i seem to remember.
My therapist told me it was ok for me to "take risks" now. Cue the hookers and blow.
He decided not to draw dicks on my face when I passed out because he was afraid I'd retaliate and superglue his dick to his stomach....he knows me too well.
On the back of that comment, I've formed a theory that as a result of my brainwashing your drunk self actually believes that beards are your calling.
I have a new game. It's called "how weird can you act before a guy won't fuck you". I've deducted most guys are willing even if you're batshit insane.
Climbing out Mr. Friday night's bathroom window. He thinks I'm puking. Be on state st. with the getaway car and if you could bring me a shirt and some advil that'd be dandy.
So proud. See you in five. I've got coffee.
Do you remember me making bird noises at the bartender with some guy at the bar last night?
Wait. Wine + Crossbow..?
For the record you were pretending you were in a rocket when you drove from wawa to your house. So like 2 minutes of me listening to you making rocket sounds over the phone lmfao
started my period, we have to try again next week
if we have anymore sex before that my dick is gonna fall off. that is in no way a complaint
HIS DICK IS GLORIOUS AND I WANT TO RIDE IT TO VALHALLA
I still have to bake cookies and shave my legs so Mike can have MILF & cookies when he gets home.
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