So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
Getting food. Want anything?
Vagina. Double meat no buns. I have the secret sauce
WTF why am I in the Atlanta airport?
Who would have thought the night we were surrounded by 4 cops would be the most responsible night of the week.
Tried to bribe the bartender with wedding cake. Felt bad for not giving her a tip.
I spent most of the night convinced it was my birthday. But I was probably wrong, it can't be January, can it? I'm 90% sure its not. But maybe. The days have got shorter. Is this what unemployment feels like to everyone?
seriously when did my vagina become a soup kitchen for the poor
I hate him and his pretentious your-sleeping-in-the-wet-spot look.
I guess the study abroad went badly, I gave him a joint and he just smoked it and cried all the way from the airport
There's no winning that game with me. It's either "Can I walk home at the end of the night," or "am I throwing up trying to sleep in the front yard." Rules are irrelevant.
I need an inhaler full of pot for all of this breathless rage.
FYI, his "son" is a Chihuahua.
You challenged a dog groomer that she couldn't cut human hair ... How's the shaved head
I just threw up in the bushes and my gardener started clapping...
Do you think telling guys I'm majoring in magic is a good pickup line?
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