I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
Seriously... There's something wrong here. I'm drinking vodka to mask the smell of chocolate on my breath before I get home and he finds out. I fucking hate couple dieting...
Im cutting you off tonight ONE boy at a time
Also- bikini mowing was a horrible idea. One truck just drove by 3 times, turning around at the end of the block each time. My tan may be better for it but my conscience has been raped.
Except if I'm having sex. In which case you're in the bed with us or out of the room. No halfsie participation.
I passed out in all my clothes. like my purse too..and with a cup of water next to me..and my last tweet last night was "Bye."
He sent me a limp picture of his penis with the caption " same ol, same ol' I cant believe these are the type of guys I sleep with
You went over didnt you?
I live vicariously through you. No one mistakes me for a hooker anymore. I look like a stay at home mom of three. On bad days of four.
If fixing it is ignoring it, and getting naked. Then yes we fixed it.
MIDGETS
????
One of my interns found me on Grindr. I'm really gonna make him earn the absurd amount of money I pay him.
I accidentally left my shirt at my booty calls house. He washed it & hung it up for me in his closet. I can't decide if that's sweet or creepy
She asked what the dent on the hood of my car was from..i think she knows we had sex up there
So my step mom just informed me she tells stories about me at work as a form of birth control for the girls that work there, not sure if i should be offended or proud.
There's something about a foam party that makes freshman want to turn their lives into full blown shit shows. And I'm ok with the fact I am one of those.
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