It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
We need to talk in the morning. The guy I was with just interpreted me taking off my earrings as code for "let me take off my pants."
well, i woke up this morning to a note i left myself my dry erase board, "dear you: i had sex with someone awful."
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 smell like fire and strippers. Successful sunday funday.
I have a date tonight... Like a real date... Not the kind where you just go over to his house and have sex and then never speak again.
We used a lit joint as a candle for her birthday cake
It's nights like those I refer to my life motto: You can't be just friends with someone after you've seen their genitals.
It's still to early in our relationship to tell her I was sleeping in my car
Nothing bonds a father and daughter like washing her puke off the front steps
I was afraid someone would drug test my pants so you set them on fire.
I never saw such an emotional argument over yellow vs. spicy mustard.
My body hates me. Pretty sure I drank 3 pitches full of coffee last night and took two adderal. I slept and ran a marathon at the same time. You should see my bed.
His dick is a skeleton key. It fits everywhere.
I COULD CUT A FUCKING DIAMOND WITH MY RIGHT NIPPLE RIGHT NOW HOLY FUCK
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