I wanna come home
And do what?
Kiss. Rip clothes off. Repeat.
I'm drinking while my friends build sand castles, now I know how my dad used to feel
you thought you were invisible so you started narrating your actions.
I don't call you at 3 in the morning to start a fucking relationship.
You just kept saying "they don't make cigarettes for squirrels. Yet."
No fireworks. Throwing the old microwave off the deck.
I woke up in nothing but a shower cap and your sparkling coke straw snorter thing inbetween my toes. Explain.
I projectile vomited in his sisters room where the toiled would have been if it were the bathroom.
The best part of my day was getting high in the parking lot of the movie theater and taking pics in the photo booth with the caption "CONGRATULATIONS!" we geeked out because it congratulated us for getting high
Luke did at least 8 shots of pure mayonnaise last night. I am not sure if that is better or worse than my 2 cement mixers?
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.
When the cab driver starts laughing its a good indication of the standard of girls you are bringing home
I need to have sex. It's becoming like a matter of public safety.
There is a video recording of my birth. I have seen it. It is terrifying.
Taco Bell is giving high school kids free tacos STEAL YOUR BROTHER'S WALLET I'LL BRING THE WEED.
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