morning outfit: hottub soaked skirt. no underwear. someone's bandanna worn as a shirt. took me an hour to walk home. this isn't fun anymore.
Just paid for that girls abortion on my dad's black card. I feel like P-Diddy.
Yeah. We was talkin. Its ok. My bed is too filled with pam for sex. Its like a slip and slide of butter product.
He scored a 8.5/10 on that girls powerpoint. Of course I slept with him
Thursday nights need to stop happening to me.
The bouncers kicked us out around 3 so we went to the grocery store flasks in hand and asked them to turn up their music...
You asked me if you had to go downstairs to get upstairs. And then you forgot where you were.
My life is over. I farted in open court. Noticeably. The judge looked at me. It echoed.
Sorry, I was trapped in a small closet behind a washer. What's up?
I just swallowed some ecstasy stuck in my nose from last night. Work should be interesting.
Or maybe I'll just keep introducing myself like, hello, they call me iane because I need the D. Applications are submitted online, women need not apply.
With a stable of 7 fuck buddies, I literally use a random number generator to determine the order in which I will booty call them on my way home from work. I have not slept in my own bed in a month. I just keep half my clothes hanging in my car or in a suitcase.
If it's any consolation, I made really strong brownies yesterday and had 3 and then I saw demons
No more bourbon. Sleep now. I may die. Pray for me.
He somehow obtained a megaphone and managed to scare away the out-of-control house party—the house party that HE started, by the way— by pretending to be the police.
Randomize
