Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
he fingered me, smelled his fingers, then asked me what i ate today..
Fire inspection over. Blunts are OK
I am a terrible person. This is almost as bad as when I was going to see my ex while my boyfriend was at that funeral.
she said we were using the spray butter as air freshener
you know, this Evan Williams whiskey isn't so bad when it's watered down a bit and you're home by yourself on a Saturday listening to Snoop Dog alone in your apartment without pants or any plans for your future...
Okay. thanks for sacraficing your body and risking aids for our snowcone business.
Malt liquor mondays...better in theory.
It was an "I snuck in through the window at 5am with my underwear in my pocket" kind of night.
We were debating whether you had hooked up with him. I was right for the record.
He sat on me and said I owed him $10, when I asked why he just said "lap dance"
I am still awake. And let me sing you the song of my people. Ahem. "I have a bottle of hydrocodone and you all can fuck off."
I'm not sure why, but my salad smells like a Big Mac. Or maybe that's just the smell of yesterday's, seeping through my skin.
SOME DUDE PUT OUT FOR A MCCHICKEN AND YET YOU STILL WON'T FUCK ME
Do you remember feeding the vacuum doritos last night?
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