I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
laying in bed listening to christian music, jealous of the hope they have for their life. also need to beat off, can i think about you?
we didnt fuck last night. again. seriously, his place is like where dreams go to die.
You discussed the Arab/Israeli conflict with the guy behind the counter at the Kebab shop telling him you supported his people. He was clearly Asian.
I'm pretty sure we've had sex a bunch more times than we've hugged. So hugs are weird when they happen.
she reminds me of the kind of girl who'd fuck in church if you asked. I can dig it.
Ya know, I lied. I wouldn't mess with him. Not because of the crazy/rehab issues... but because he wears tank-tops.
you kept saying 'its nothing a six pack wont fix' as they loaded you into the ambulance.
I stopped in the middle of puking to wish you a happy birthday, so by default it means a lot.
Ummmm you know you're drinking vodka out of a Skittles bag, right?
I'm tired of being known as the Great Giver Goddess of the Almighty Pity Bone.
After getting kicked out of the bar, you proceeded to McDonald's, ordered 30 nuggets, slammed them all back in 5 minutes and then stole 3 traffic cones...how you only got charged with drunk in public is beyond me.
He wants another date...I mean he's cute, but I just am not ready to give up my glamorous single-girl lifestyle here.
you mean the one where you drink out of the carton and don't wear pants?
Yeah, and pee with the door open. It's the little things.
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
I'm on a party bus with a stripper pole with middle aged women who have all started drinking
God bless your soul.
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