Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
Oh. My. God. Best non-relationship, he-might-be-cheating-on-his-boyfriend-but-I-can't-tell-because-of-the-language-barrier sex EVER!
Who was more unwelcome: The two of us at the party last night, or Kimmy Gibler at the Tanner residence?
there are seriously like six guinea pigs in my bathtub right now
If he starts "inventing" things cut him off. The last thing he invented was chocolate chip green beans and he destroyed my kitchen
I vaguely remember walking down the highstreet with a plate of K offering lines to passers buy. I sold a line to a taxi driver.
we should hire that guy that makes pancakes that we met last weekend for our next party. He can feed us, and regulate!
He needs to respect me before he can fuck me with cat ears on.
I feel like god wrote up a contract of my life, and i just signed off on that shit without reading the fine print.
I need to get a life, I am either crying at every glee episode or just wanting to blow rails off photos of us
He probably tastes like german chocolate and coffee beans
Seriously though, my ovaries are trying to crawl out of my body and into his pants.
but how can he casually chat with my father 8 hours after asking me if i'm a screamer
I watch one musical on Netflix, and the "Suggested for you" section is literally almost the entire gay movie category. I feel profiled, and netflixs' accuracy about my sexuality is both impressive and offensive.
So far 2 of my professors caught me looking at their dicks
All I ever wanted was my bed, Tylenol, and total darkness. Instead I had a pervert with porno posters who blares german rock calling me tootsie pop. How was your saturday night?
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