things it involved: vodka, boy parts, possible photos of me on a cell phone. things it did NOT involve last night: my bra, his pants, and sobriety.
it's not our fault the pink and the sink are so close together.
Why do you proceed to call me "Queen La Queefah?"
note to self... there IS such a thing as having too many birthday shots...
You have to come over we all bought drinking hats. Mine has a turtle on it. Side note: somehow someone got their hands on 50 candied apples and we need to eat them...
in the middle of fucking he asked me if i had gotten a haircut because he noticed i didnt have split ends anymore. i dont know what to think
I actually took a sword out of your hands. You were samurai slashing lemons to make chasers.
You just can't come from being "the girl who shit her pants."
What do you want to swallow. Press 1 whiskey press 2 rum
Life is my bitch right now. The bouncers tried to carry me out of the club, but everyone thought I was crowd surfing so everyone carried me BACK IN. Winning as fuck.
Then again, he has huge mansions.
*manboobs.
to drive Frat boys away, one just needs to cat-call at them. It makes their masculinity weaker, and yours stronger.
My book, "How to Live With a Huge Penis" was delivered today. Can't wait to read it in public.
honestly performing my own hysterectomy would hurt less than my cramps right now.
Gotta go, there’s a chick at my door that wants to give me head
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