My life is a requiem composed in the key of fuck.
It was romantic. He brought over a bottle of Jack to celebrate us becoming official on Facebook. Definitely a story for the grandkids.
I made him breakfast and we cuddled on the couch watching march of the penguins, which is, in case you were unaware, the opposite of fucking on a pool table
I look like one classy bitch running in heels through my backyard while carrying a small dog and a large bottle of booze. How am I still single?
Seems like you've kicked summer 2012 off well.
I drew you a picture of Jesus holding hands with Frida Kahlo as a token of my gratitude
Judging by the progress I've made since I woke up (none) I'm thinking this hangover may keep me in bed.
She had like a side ponytail and hoop earrings though. And legwarmers. Like a horrible 80s nightmare. Don't drink and dream, dude.
I literally stopped banging her when my ESPN app alerted me that the Spurs had won. That's how much I hate Lebron. I would rather watch him cry in the post game interviews than get it in
I'm gonna have to shit in a bar again tonight
Who looks around on a bright, sunny day and says, "you know what? Today I'm going to write gay dinosaur erotica"
The parents I babysit for are at this orgy. I need to leave.
We ended the night eating peanutbutter with our hands and smoking cigarettes in the house at 4am. Fucking Everclear, man.
I'm about to do something based solely on the fact that a fortune cookie told me to. This may not end well.
don't think less of me for this, but i'm pretty sure he did a line off my boob last night.
I talked to his mom for a good 10 minutes with coke all over my nose. Not the best first impression
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