I woke up this morning to 4 booty call texts. So i am trying to find the sign that says i like to sit on cocks so that i can take it off.
trust me, i wonder where that sign is on a daily basis.
He called me "the Joe Montana of blowies." Not sure if that is an accomplishment or an insult, but going off of the amount of condensation on the windows of my car, I'm gonna just do a little touchdown dance and pass out.
It's like a choose-your-own-adventure. But the adventure is already chosen for you. And it sucks.
if you hear someone banging on your door early in the morning, it's me with some breakfast burritos, so don't be alarmed
The only word I understood in that whole setence was semen.
Could be my worst decision since the whole 'third degree burn' fiasco.
I'm ultimately at thr Shariton to drink and ppssibly puke on fancy shit. Thats my story and Im sticking to it.
He could smell the liquor on my breath. Fuck. I thought he would smell French toast.
It's not that I even wanna fuck these guys anymore, just cuddle that's all. My conscience has never been so proud.
I think there is a legit party going on the place we thought was AA
Before you started puking your brains out, you took a moment to give me the correct order of the Harry potter series
BTW, does Anne know that we used the lipstick she is currently wearing to was used to write the word "ASS" on my ass cheeks last night?
I'm not trying to take your husband away from you, but can we have another 3way soon? I'm just desperate for good dick.
He came home at 2 AM on roller skates with his hair dyed pink while singing "Sweet Transvestite" and throwing glitter on all of us and everything we own. We had to call a cleaning guy.
Getting a smaller wine glass hasn’t changed the amount I drink—it just means I get more steps each day. Cheers to health!
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