My sheets at my parents place are clean. No braveheart but I can paint myself, yell "freedom", and sword fight you with my cock. So come over.
Like all of my pajamas are shirts of guys I shacked with in college
I've decided that I only have enough money to either eat or drink over the next month. I'm sure you know what choice I've made.
I got drunk and threw up on a kid at the amusement park. I think they're pressing charges.
why does he think he needs to feed/take me out to get some ass? we are at a bar wasting my fucking time
I want to dip my vagina in sugar. Not only will it be sweet, but it will have a nice sparkle.
call me tomorrow and ask me about coke-whore stripper. It hasnt happened yet, but im sure it will be plenty disappointing.
he asked if thats how we do it in the states..like there's cultural difference in fucking between canada and the us..
I stayed at the bar and helped clean up cause I was told I'd get free shots. Didn't happen.
I'm thinking he has to buy me dinner at least twice before i even start considering casting him for "Fuck buddy - understudy."
Just make sure my intervention has a theme...
I'm just learned what a rim job is, I feel like crying
i just wrote an ode to an enchilada dorito. i'll need that pregnancy test now please.
I'd apply for another job, but "staring out windows crying" is not a hot qualification right now.
Dad smells like hangovers and 65 years of bitterness
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