I looked him in the face and asked if we could stop. he asked why. I said "I can't feel it.". ...I feel bad; I should have faked.
weed brownie and a latte, breakfast of champions
an unopened bag of salt and vinegar chips... probably the best thing I've ever found in my room while high.
Bad news is he broke up with me via text message
But the good news is I've returned as mayor of whoreville
i'm not the one sitting naked in my room playing with my boobs and a cat.
We're sitting in his room writing songs about America. There's a verse about a dead dog. There's tequila everywhere.
Im going to hell in a hand basket. With a ribbon tied to my head. I'll be like a puppy for the devil.
The pastor just stopped the sermon to lay hands on me. THAT hungover.
Slowly realizing that my only incentive to bathe is shower beer
can't decide if i look like a hooker or a missing member of Poison today
I drank toilet water last night, I can't answer you because my phone is in rice.
I recommend we watch the Super Bowl together and have celebratory sex if we win. Good news is I don't have a team I dislike so were guaranteed a win.
We are such grown women, dealing with life's problems one shower beer and reckless makeout session at a time.
He snorted adderall on my table. I have a feeling he's not trying to buy me flowers
I need to reevaluate my stance on weekday hangovers...
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