last night was a success...if success means i don't remember the guy's name and my panties are somewhere in the parking lot behind the bar
you would have Pina Colada flavored saliva.
please remember that your boobs are bigger than your sisters. when you borrow her shirts they stretch and then shes left flapping in the breeze. dont borrow her clothes anymore. love dad.
I'm not sure how exactly, but this funeral has turned into a ridiculous night of drinking games
I'm promoting my liver to CEO of my body cause it clearly works harder than anything else.
The one with glasses said he was keeping my bra. He had me sign it before he left and he said he would be hanging it up in his bunker. I support our troops.
It wasn't even dirty talking, it was more like the soothing gentle nonsense noises you make when you've spooked a horse.
I feel like shit, and I can't get the band aids off my nipples.
i can't even hate his new girlfriend cuz she survived a fucking brain tumor. like that's just not fair.
like, by the end of my shift people were asking if I'd sobered up enough to take a drink order yet. that bad.
You pretended to be Borat in that weird slingshot bathing suit and then proceeded to send another dick pic/nude selfie and said you weren't naked because you were wearing a hat.
I finally figured out how to tighten my bra straps and I feel like a god
I blasted the Halloween Before Christmas soundtrack last night so my roommate wouldn't hear me having sex. Needless to say the sex got a little weird.
I currently don't understand fingers.
death, taxes, and me drunk texting you are 3 certainties in life
Randomize
