If she didn't want me to pass out in her bathroom, then she shouldn't have such a furry rug in there
Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
The old woman next to me on the el smells like cupcakes...but she doesn't taste like cupcakes
He won't let me have sex with him, but feels bad if I won't let him get me off. It is the weirdest, best, most confusing pseudo relationship I've been in.
Wedding cake is always the best dance partner. In the corner. With a jack and coke. And while I'm crying. Listening to "Almost Paradise".
Im covered in vodka and melted gummys. Fuck summer.
Hurricane Sex Time is the only thing iv said since it started.
It's a gateway drink.... Starts with wine... Then I wake up in my car with mascara on my arms covered in french fries...
We literally just Chinese fire drilled so I could give him road head.
I'm just gonna wear a long dress with no panties today. My pussy needs a break.
I just remembered I did the whole byebyebye dance at the bar
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
I've also stopped shaving, like, everything. I can't tell if I'm empowered or sad
you know you're in deep when you watch fear and loathing in las vegas and every damn scene is relatable.
So you just held his hand and he fucking came...?
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