I had a disgustingly explicit dream last night involving myself and lil wayne.
dude, my own friends sent me home from a party last night. real cool assholes. real cool
I wanted to tell him he wasn't actually in me, but my god, awkward?
stop calling my apartment porn island.
I can practically hear my vag and my conscience fighting.
ENDLESS SCROLLING ON TUMBLR WAS MADE FOR HIGH PEOPLE!
For a limited time only, free special muffin with the referral of a loyal dro customer! Have it for breakfast and be happy off your ass all day! Guaranteed! New member must buy at least an eighth. Oh and O's are on sale for 280.
You. Win. At. Life.
True that.. I am going to ride a gold plated unicorn across a field of cocaine and coach purses when I graduate.
That was beautiful.
Today's forecast: A sex tornado warning has been issued in your area. Counties affected include your bed, your shower, or your couch. This warning is in effect until further notice. Signs of a sex tornado include: your girlfriend coming up with a huge analogy to inform you that she's ungodly horny today.
One time she made a chronological chart for the guys she has given blow jobs to, I shit you not.
Almost screamed "GO FISH MOTHER FUCKER" at the girl I nanny today. Drunken card games shouldn't bleed into my sober life.
Holy. Crap. I just found a hickey on my bikini line. He never got my pants off. WHO IS THIS MYSTICAL HOOKUP WIZARD?
This morning I woke up in the entrance of a retirement home. Memory fragments from last night: making it rain with the contents of my wallet over the bridge, getting hit by a car, and a lot of running.
I just had sex on my divorce papers. I've never felt so poetic.
I'm stuck on a cliff. I'm not sure how I got here or how to get down. Please send help. And clothes.
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