while cleaning my room, i've found many wonderful things. one of these is the card you gave me for my eighteenth birthday. it's a christmas card that says "i want to stick it in your sponger"
It was so weird. I had like an out of body experience. I heard the moaning, but I didn't know it was me.
At the time, making out with dudes for keg money seemed like a genius idea. Now I realize it was borderline prostitution.
This is how we made chicken soup last night: Whole chicken in a pot of vodka with a box of crackers and some carrots. We should go pro.
And then out of the blue she sent me a youtube video mashup of cats puking to techno music
Between the hair pulling and the choking its its more like combat than sex
Sorry I have an "Operation Iraqi Freedom" fantasy
He made me write my name on his wall in crayon so he'd be able to remember it in the morning
Oh by the way, john gave me your shirt to return to you when I was at work today. I almost gave him his girlfriends underwear to return to her but figured it would be inappropriate.
Word of advice, don't put your jar if peanut butter in the microwave, blue fire comes out
Like an undercooked grilled cheese that got cold again. But hairy.
And there goes my desire for sandwiches. Forever.
There should be a guide book that probation officers hand out on "how to tell a tinder girl about your ankle monitor before she notices it at the worst possible moment"
He usually doesnt care about me cumming but last night he really tried, I feel that him going to the Womens March benefitted my sex life
Not this time. I'm drinking in my sweatpants which means I've given up for the day and shouldn't be in public.
As in, legitimately worried. You just sent me a 6 message long text that did not contain any complete words.
Went to waffle house after dropping my sister off at school and got into a heated argument with a drunk/hungover philosophy professor I will not name. I won the argument.
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