I realized today that I should stop thinking so much with my vagina instead of my brain.
Please tell me this doesn't mean another "surprise road trip" where I spend all my money on gas and the SURPRISE destination is the abortion clinic.
But what if I pay for the gas?
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
I was too drunk to read the menu, let alone her body language.
Found crayons in my cigarette pack. I can't help but feel you may be responcible.
And there might be a gallon of sangria without the lid on the floor in your room. Just be careful when you open the door.
My vagina and my morals are playing tug of war
You're the only true friend I have, if true friendship is based off who would be there for me at 4am during a boxed wine crisis.
Please be advised that because of last year's "incident" we will no be starting St. Pat's day with spicy breakfast burritos and car bombs. Please plan accordingly.
When he gets asked "is it in?" more than his name you arent missing out on much more than a petite tampon.
I am compiling a playlist that reminds me of all my best sexual encounters. It shall be called THE MUSIC OF MY VAGINA'S PEOPLE
I feel like shit, and I can't get the band aids off my nipples.
I bet I give better head than any other PTA mom.
OMFG I JUST SEARCHED DILDO ON THE WORK SHARED AMAZON ACCOUNT!!!!!
Remind me to do laundry tomorrow so i have something decent to take off when i get laid.
Look, I need your help, not your judgment.
Randomize
