My drug dealer is spending the weekend in my studio apartment. I feel like I've crossed a line that should never be crossed.
Whoa. I woke up to 10 new text messages. All about bacon.
DO NOT FUCK HIM ON MY BEAN BAG CHAIR
the bar tender told me i could keep an air matress in the backroom.
He sent me a pic of his Junk. He said it was a Brett Farve valentine.
I'm laying outside on my patio attempting to get sun with a puke bucket next to me... This is dedication to the tan my friend
Between the walk of shame, bar fight, karaoke, injuries, number of bar check-ins, and variety/quantity of alcohols and Advil consumed, I'd say HookerFest 2012 was a raging success.
Wrestling for my wallet turned into us almost having sex in the middle of the hallway
I've somehow found myself in an emotionally abusive relationship with a married man who gives me drugs.
My life is quickly turning into a Lifetime movie.
It was inevitable. It was like I was a caterpillar and now I'm a drunk and high butterfly
I showed up to a job interview wearing two different shoes. If that's not an omen, I don't know what is.
He asked if we were going to take advantage of his drunken state. When we said no he tired to show us what we were missing out on. It was so sad it almost made him cute.
Freshly fucked must agree with my hair cause I've gotten compliments on it this afternoon
Im so fucked up I'm drinking baileys and coffee just to stay awake.
It's 6 in the afternoon?
My vagina! What have you done to it?
Blessed it my child.
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