Ways to know you did something wrong: you sugar-coated it for your therapist.
He must hate going to the bathroom. Every time he does he is reminded how small his dick is.
i think i should save myself the $200 for a prom dress. i mean why bother. its just going to be covered in vodka/jizz/and puke by the end of the night.
He just slept in my bed for a couple hours and asked lots of questions about gay sex. No, I do not have his number.
Not enough clothes on. Not enough vagina. Not enough drugs in my body.
Ummm so does anybody remember me stopping to get my ear peirced last night and make an earring out of a staple? Or did I just somehow lay on this thing and ram it through my ear?
Haha, oh man. I'm awake now. Slept in my headdress.
I'm hungover as hell. I'm dying. I have no skin left on my knees
that's how you measure success
By how bad my vagina hurts on a Tuesday morning while I'm trying to figure out how I got white girl wasted on a Monday?
And now we should drink to that moment where you realize you didn't exactly think things through.
He managed to crash an entire train of shopping carts into a wall. I think he noticed my implants.
Turns out she left way earlier. So I'm stuck with this guy asking where he can score meth and if I'm really straight.
Throwing up into Nora's potty chair while simultaneously having beer shits was truly the highlight of my Christmas season.
He puked all over the side of the car and the head rest behind him...and then all he said was "America."
It's his. I know, I'm pregnant with a genetic douche bag but at least he'll be pretty!
Randomize
