oh. my. god. the guy i hooked up with last night is currently wearing a dress.
It was like a mary poppins bag, except a sexual mary poppins bag.
She had a little wicker basket of condoms by her bed. Disturbing yet convenient.
I'm pretty sure I just overheard my boss call his sperm precious metal...
I started making my dollar bills into rings for the strippers
I woke up naked dangling by my feet from the balcony over his foyer. He's officially my new favorite booty call.
You obviously dont comprehend the level of insane i operate at
I don't know what to be prouder of: the fact that last night i was able to successfully find my way home from evanston with 3-d glasses on, or that i was able to make my way around my house in the dark with my pants around my ankles
I owe you a thank you for last night. Only you could go up to a guy, ask if he likes my boobs, and return later to find us in a full on dance floor makeout sesh. Well played.
You kept yelling in my face " YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO SUCK A DICK TONIGHT!"
I was just trying to flirt with James Franco but she kept telling me to take shots out of Ron Burgundy's mouth
On the flip side Weston asked if he could move me to Wisconsin to be his "moto hoe" which is actually a thing apparently
The night was crazy enough that we did a workout. Instructed by the bouncer at 2am
I hate political talk. I just wanna get fucked into an alternate universe where Bernie Sanders is president.
one week and then i'm back on the sexual grind. a party is being planned in my vagina's honor
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