I left my keys in the garlic bread freezer in Publix.
What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
New pre-game routine....wal-mart bathrooms...quality beers for free...hallelujah
dude I heard her through my door. She sounded like you were holding her head under water and they letting her up for air. I recorded that shit
..and then spiked the maple syrup at iHop
She was singing my heart will go on into her barf bag. celine aint got shit on her.
In all fairness I did warn the guy I just spray tanned before we had sex so I hold no responsibility for the bronzer all over his sheets
I don't care. I'll text you about my butthole whenever I please. That's what you signed up for in this relationship.
If I don't have the money by then, I'll pay you in sex.
It's going to be 23.5 times of sex and 19 blow jobs. I just googled it.
Gave up on finding an ashtray.... just started flicking it in my purse.
DIBS ON THE NEW GUY.
NO. NO FUCKING YOUR COWORKERS
If he can't cook well I'm just gonna buy a RealDoll and twenty cats and live my own fucking life
I'd rather have snapchat than feelings.
HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE TROPHY HUSBAND! I WAS GOING TO BE THE SUCCESSFUL ONE!
Morning! Got your 3am VM to remind you to get up for spin class and also confirm you were not murdered by the sketchy guy at brunch yesterday. So this is your literal and metaphorical wake up call.
Randomize
