I'll buy you a vibrator, we can get married for tax benefits, and live happily ever after with lots of doggggs.
Holy shit I just stopped short on route 18 because I thought my gps was saying I had to turn right in 11 feet. After almost hitting the guardrail I realized I had to turn in 11 miles.
Fuck I'm high.
It wasn't awkward until he started humming the Rocky theme song in the middle of fucking
Awkward medical moment of the day: A very obese girl with a disorder that literally makes her hit herself punched herself in the face. Literally. While screaming 'MCDONALDS MONEY'. Right. Beside. Me.
you were watching a documentary about sharks and wouldn't stop stroking my legs and whispering "what if they could walk?"
he was drinking wine. Puking into an empty water bottle. And eating french toast. ....All at the same time.
This is so fucking sad. Netherlands isn't even a real country.
All right cuz right now I'm in one of those moods where the shear thought of doing anything more strenuous than making a sandwich has me wanting to curl up in the feeble position and splash around in a puddle of my own tears.
I just found a casserole dish in my oven filled with broken glass, blood, and chopsticks. And the REALLY fucked up thing is that finding it answered more questions than it raised.
Oh god. I just had a sex dream about the talking dog from the Bush's Baked Beans commercials.
you dont know your limits until you wake up with a black eye and a bruised rib and find out you got ran over by a bicycle last night
I don't want my vagina anymore.
million dollar idea: razor dispensers in bar bathrooms. your welcome, girls who didn't think they were getting laid tonight.
Got everyone out of my house, somehow managed to put all my lawn furniture back, puked in my sink, and cleaned it up all while black out drunk before my parents came home. Successful night.
Are you hungover?
No. I'm hiding under my covers and hoping it doesn't find me.
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