Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
Nothing says "I love you" like a full raw dog.
If you're trying to subtly tell me that I look like Connie Chung, just stop it. I already know.
You told me when we were leaving the club if I could pin point your nipple through your padded bra you would show me if I was right.
on the way home I asked you what exit we get off at and your answer was "just like the goldfish"
He had me saved in his phone as "Dick Socket". Lets see if I ever fuck him in a bathroom again.
Just came out of my room at 8 AM to find 2 pounds of raw hamburger and a half eaten cake strewn across the hallway. And I'm not surprised at all.
It's official, I need to start putting my vagina's needs before my own.
What's sign language for "you may not be the father?" Kinda important right now.
WHAT IF you could get pizza delivered to you IN YOUR CAR while driving somewhere. Like moving roadside service.
You're High aren't you?
Sooooo high
I pulled out moves I did not even know I possessed, our fucking de-throned gods
She introduced me as that girl Nathan was fingering
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
Here's an unsolicited pic of my tits, because you almost died last night.
Can I make sure all my sluttiness goes to you when I die? You're the only person I know who'll make use of it
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