i made sure i dropped the whole "im a yoga teacher" bomb which basically roofies a guys sense of judgement and guarantees he will sleep with me.
I'm about to enter vancouver's biggest liquor store. I feel like I should sent you a "wish you were here" postcard.
i don't know where i am. i made bad decisions. i think this guy is dead.
Is it sad I don't want to go buy $1 Mac-n-cheese cause I need to pay rent... I'm re-naming this college.
Also, peanut butter on a spoon dinner is back in existence and it is good.
at which point he tried to give himself a prince albert piercing with the stapler on his desk.
I woke up this morning covered in blood and peanut butter. I am now safe from vampires with nut allergies.
why are our drunk alter egos so much more successful than us?
When he wears his hair down and sandals, he looks like Jesus. A Jesus I would fuck.
That's not what Jesus is for
I may, or may not have licked his face in an Applebee's.
Every now and then I'll meet one who is talented in the art of shower gymnast.
I Pavlov-trained him by smacking him in the nuts anytime I caught him looking at another girl in public. To this day, he's afraid to break eye contact with me in a restaurant if a tall busty blonde walks in.
She's trying to sext her husband for the first time. I'm feeding her lines. It is 3 am and I am playing Cyrano for my wasted big sister TELL ME I AM NOT THE BEST SISTER IN LAW ON THE PLANET.
I just borrowed porn from my middle aged mother. This is what desperate looks like.
ONE DAY CAN WE PLEASE HAVE SECRET SEX. PREFERABLY IN AN ANCIENT PYRAMID BUT I'M NOT OPPOSED TO A 4 STAR HOTEL
and by running errands I mean eating an entire bag of milanos by myself in the Walmart parking lot
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