You're my spirit guide. This has to do with oatmeal cream pies.
The last good decent convo we has was when I was trying to convince you to let me watch you pee.
Life gets in the way of sexy Saturday sometimes
The US State Dept doesn't need to know I'm a high strung drunken whore.
I'm watching a man in drag spread food products on his face my life is spiraling out of control.
Trying to convince myself that everyone keeps staring at me because I'm pretty and not because of my hickies.
Not after That Night. No. I hate tequila. And it hates me. Very mutual hateship going on.
Typing up notes at the bar and doing shots with the bartender until close on a Wednesday. This is what my second year of law school has become.
Then he started caressing my eye brow. Like repetedly. For at least 15 minutes. It was strangely mesmerizing
I cunt my lip shaving. That's not a typo, it's a placement clue
When he wakes up tomorrow with half shaved legs smelling like a preteens bathroom, I'm sure he will think he has had a great evening
"He didn't answer my snap so I know he's arrested"
This may be the alcohol talking, but I'm pretty sure I know Spanish now
I'm crying during the second episode of Golden Girls that's how high I am.
I know you would never do it--but if I ever walk into your house and find a "live love laugh" ANYTHING, I will commit you to an asylum. If it is a vinyl decal adhered to the wall, I will just smother you myself.
Randomize
