The party theme was heirs and heiress's. Most guys came in polo shirts but he came as the "arch duke of vagina".
Why are you speaking in third person?
Because I'm so hungover that I don't even want to be myself anymore.
The police woke me up so they had no choice but to see my morning wood.
He came home all fucked up crying slammed his bedroom door and all we could hear for about three hours was THIS ISN'T GONA RUIN MYLIFe what happend
I told him I got this chick pregnant and he has to get a new wingman
I'm doing somethin that's never been done before...the 10 am booty call come over
Not drinking has really freed up a lot of my time. I made a bracelet yesterday. I miss bars.
The kind of drunk where you put two tampons in thinking that it'll last me longer ...
Then my perve supervisor asked about your vagina. And I was like nunya, but its glorious
I'll text you later. I think she thinks we're taking this whole "no sex" thing seriously.
The girl who comes up after me always strips to Lana Del Rey. I didn't think working in a strip club could be any more depressing.
I'm currently deliberating if I'm going to be too drunk on New Years to handle wearing false eyelashes.
I'm actually more excited that I had so much sex this weekend that my ovaries hurt
I can't hang out with this penis. I'll start thinking I like the person it belongs to.
I almost stopped mid bj to let him know I appreciated his balls being nice to look at/have my face near. But I didn't know if that would ruin, or improve the moment.
He started me on Celexa. I think I feel like Bjork. Is that normal?
Like... my feet feel like little octopuses, and they want to swim to the next room.
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