Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
You should have seen the look on the cashiers face when I was buying steel reserve with a suit on.
She was so happy she found her sunglasses, that she blew me. Im now randomly hiding things of hers in hopes she'll find them and I'll get a repeat performance.
when i was ordering pizza, the guy muffled the phone but i could clearly hear him say "its that drunk bitch again"
We'll both be dead in approximately 72-96 hours, with you bringing your liver out of retirement again, Favre.
You're barking up the wrong lesbian.
My passouts and memory loss are great training for when I have alzheimers. You'll know where to look when I get lost.
btw, do you remember scaling that porch last night?
I no longer see him as a simple set of male genitalia attached to a very sexy body. The title "trophy fuck" seems wrong. Damn.
He's single. I'm single. We should rekindle our eighth grade romance over a box of wine and carefree sex.
The maintenance guy says happy birthday. Also, he likes your penis balloon.
When you get home...find me in the shower. Only safe place at the moment.
Stop calling me, Mom. I'm in his closet. You're gonna blow my cover and I'm about to catch this lying SOB.
idk what happened last night but i just wokeup with nothing on but a necklace...what is this, the fucking titanic?
Why are there naked heterosexuals in my apartment?
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