i need a wealthy benefactor or a cocktail job. or to start stripping. or kill myself. whatever.
I wish you had a penis so you could experience peeing out the window in front of a crowd of people leaving parties.
They only remember me when they're drunk...I'm like a suppressed memory.
I have so many hands. So. Many. Hands. I can feel arms that I don't have yet. They tickle. I can see the blood in my eyes. I think something is happening. The hands!!! I'm ticking myself with hands I don't have yet! I can't stop giggling about my notyet hands!
He's single. I'm single. We should rekindle our eighth grade romance over a box of wine and carefree sex.
If he thinks that that is an acceptable way to ask me out he is out his goddamn ginger mindddddd.
i ended up eating cold sauceless spaghetti out of the container in the fridge with my hands.
I just want a man to crawl into my bed with me and never crawl out. Anti socialism at his best.
He wouldn't stop calling me so I sent him a text saying "I'm dead. Dead. Leave me alone." And he replied with "so can I see you then?"
Like when I see him I look straight through his appearance and just envision a big walking penis.
His roommate walked in then asked "well did you at least finish". What a way to start your birthday
If he doesn't fuck you on the 4th of July, he doesn't really love this country.
I'm now consulting a magic eight ball on all major life decisions. On another note I think I have chlamydia.
Just found a pair of vomit-soaked socks in my purse, three days after the party... Now I know why my wallet was wet.
somehow I wound up on the floor crying about his beard. then telling everyone I'd give him a "lesbian blowjob".
If you find out what that means, show me.
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