i've decided that sluttiness is like a disease, it can lay dormant in you for years and then one day you go to college and with all the booze and drugs and boys and time on your hands symptoms begin to show then one day BAM you're a huge slut. it's like how izzie had skin cancer and it grew into brain cancer.
woke up this morning with a pool of champagne in my purse. apparently i was saving it for later.
hearing that almost makes me feel good about peeing on the coffee table
Should I tell her she gave me head in the kitchen while I was eating a cupcake or would that hurt her dignity too much?
My lips are red and swollen. Solid proof that giving head is a viable alternative to lipstick and plumper.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
My new successful method of booty calling is sending a screencap of a map with the shortest route from their location to mine highlighted.
Your vagina doesn't want to be violated with garnishes. I get it.
I woke up to him "wax on, wax off"-ing my boobs. I just reminded myself that I love him and let it happen.
He watches the nature channel every time I am here. It's like a manipulation technique because baby zebras will get me every time.
Also there's so much vodka on my breath that if I blew on my fingers my nail polish would fall right off
Your shirt... Was in my pants
Well we can add this to the list of 'where the hell did that bruise come from?'
Already doing pt exercises by picking my margarita up off the night stand. Fuck yeah.
Finding my pants in the morning should not make me this proud
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