the beat of "birthday sex" is shockingly similar to my dry heaving rhythm. it's making me nauseous all over again.
All I can remember is being told by a guy named Kyle to stay in the corner until the cops left. Then waking up on a porch outlined in beer cans 8 blocks from my house. Pregaming for college.
Just had such a rough shit, don't stop believin had to be played
What time did you start drinking?
Maybe.
Maybe isn't a time...
He said I was the "egg mcmuffin" of blowjobs. I'm flattered.
That's exactly how my pussy feels when I shave it. Like a cross between a naked mole rat and a newborn child. Embrace it.
If we don't have crazy animal sex tonight at least twice, I'll know he's cheating on me.
Who wouldn't want crazy animal sex with you?!
A cheater.
I woke up and there was pizza slices on the fucking walls of my room
So "I hate myself Mondays" has extended to Tuesday this week. I just had peanut butter and a glass of wine for lunch.
He fed us edamame like baby birds. Slowly all coming back to me.
it's gotten to the point where I just look in my closet, think, "which article of clothing behaves most like a towel?" and then just go with that
So I'll be starting a scrapbook from all the mugshots of the guys I've slept with
I don't want to get pregnant doggy style. That's sad.
Got home and told boyfriend what happened. He was like "you made out with a guy you call Balls Deep?" and hi-fived me.
Someone fucked a stripper in their rental car, there is goddamn glitter everywhere.
Randomize
