I swear she didn't look like that last week.
can we please move this conversation out of my vagina?
I called the bar to ask if they found my Id and credit card and they remembered me as 'the girl who signed her receipt in blood'
so, the parking garage attendent caught us humping in the car. long story short, we have free parking whenever we want! take that abstinence.
Exactly. Because my vagina can't be consoled with words. It requires a thicker form of communication
It's that time of the week again where I begin to ponder life's great questions like, "What will my pathetic excuse for a future look like?" and "Why tacos?"
THESE BITCHES NOT IN MY MAJOR BETTER NOT FILL UP MY SLAVIC FAIRYTALES CLASS
I'm just gonna yell "SURPRISE ME" and see what happens. No way this could go wrong
I have enough bourbon in me to put Justin's cat in the dishwasher.
You texted me the words "butt stuff" 53 times in a four hour period last night.
Considering we're about to fuck, I really need your girlfriend to stop liking all my Facebook posts.
I just gargled with NyQuil
...take a good look at your butthole.... then try matching it to any paint color on the Benjamin Moore color wheel....not gonna happen...
My lash glue is stronger than my sense of self respect
I'm fucking camped out by the bathrooms. I think the poopatrator is in there. Wtf is my life
Almost an end to the saga.
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