Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
I was just tapping my foot in the bathroom at Penn Station just PRAYING for anonymous sex. You know how that goes.
If he starts "inventing" things cut him off. The last thing he invented was chocolate chip green beans and he destroyed my kitchen
Pillow talk just revealed that he originally thought I was 16.
I just need to go to a bar tonight wrapped in an American flag singing the national anthem
thanks for being the calm eye of my shit storm.
I found your pet lobster in the bathroom this morning. I went to return it to you but it escaped.
So for future reference.... it's a little unnerving when I can't get hold of you, and the last communication we had was, "Oh fuck... It's tequila"
Let's be honest, your relationships fail because the man you're looking for is the equivalent of an intellectual blow-up doll.
I still can't believe he came down from his hiding place in the tree voluntarily because he didn't want us to have to talk to the cops alone...
We swapped clothes. He left in a v-neck and I left in a tuxedo. Classiest walk of shame or the gayest?
My liver and my bank account can't afford another all nighter. Help.
We christened the whole apartment and fucked on the balcony. It was amazing. I'm 100% sure downtown heard me climax. Now we can unpack.
Well, I got fired yesterday. At least I already paid for my Adele tickets.
You have to commit to sexting. You can't just quit right after I send you pictures of my asshole.
Seriously, come on.
I feel like there's a picture of my ass on the internet right now.
I hate you.
Randomize