shit is crazy. i just keep thinking that this kid growing inside Emily used to live in my balls.
the people next to us in line are buying a 12 pack and a snuggie
you wouldn't stop saying "oil can" in the tin man voice until I gave you back your flask
I found the pot of gold last night, and it was full of bad decisions.
Is he smart?
Why would i know that. That would deal with the top half of his body. I only deal with the bottom half.
He tried to slow-dance with me in bed. IN BED.
I've got to stop giving the gift of vagina for every occasion. I'm exhausted.
As far as drugs go, alcohol has all the elegance and precision of hitting yourself in the head with a hammer.
we tried to exchange flip flops in the parking lot and fell over then army crawled home
I went full Overly Attached Girlfriend. You never go full OAG.
The trash can in my living room is full of Popsicle sticks and my vibrator has taken up permanent residence on my coffee table. I'm not doing anything productive. Clearly.
My favorite part of you downing a fifth of fireball in my apartment by yourself is the shot glass in the sink. It's like you attempted moderation and were just like "Fuck this."
Serious question: is he hot or is my vagina just that barren?
i could only love him more if he was covered in glitter.
ugh my stomach is so upset-- didn't get a chance to take a violent enough hangover shit at work
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