Somehow I magically turned down a threesome last night. On my birthday. You're a horrible wingman.
Meeting relatives from another state drenched in tequila and smelling of weed. I'm gonna kill you for soaking the only bra I brought in Jose Cuervo Gold.
No, you always delete them without reading. Enjoy the virtue of morning innocence. What are you doing today.
And I don't know what it is about weed making me want every episode of the real housewives of everywhere
I gave him head in my cape. On the kitchen floor. Watching a show about bacon.
Relationships are fuckin' work. And you can't just up and leave with no questions when you really just need to get home because you're about to shit your pants.
You're so wise.
I feel like we need a drunken piñata bash with your face being the piñata and my hopes and dreams being the stick
What I'm saying is DOWNGRADE. Like, do you see the caps lock?
I discovered a new stretch mark. DONE. LITERALLY DONE.
Completely unrelated and mildly related, a guy I hooked up with last year in a threeway died, his obit photo was his Grindr photo
I'm laying in my bed in the fetal position with a bag of frozen peas on my head and the bathroom trashcan next to me. Fucking tequila.
The adults are the big ones right?
I'm sure he likes you too... but your boyfriend is kind of a cockblock
I just told the bartender to “give me something that will murder me”
i keep smelling vagina and donuts, which pretty much sumarises this morning. happy birthday.
Randomize
