I fucked him in a hamburger. literally. he has a hamburger bed.
I'm going to tattoo a maze on my back for the next fucker that tries to blow early ....
My weekend will be all about the double d's, desert & debauchery
I wish I could but I can't. No beer pong or sex on a hammock...such an unproductive weekend
Xanax and an ambien. And wine. I'm just waiting for mouth to mouth from some hot EMT. Sort of like the slutty girls version of sleeping beauty
No more stories ab the wkend for co-workers... No one else found "and I didn't have pants on when I got home Saturday night" as funny as I did.
I'm happy in my shell. My shell which consists of keeping guys in the friend zone and me masturbating...
Am I supposed to confront my 52-year-old boss/mother of 3 about the fact that we matched on Tinder?
And my cousin was so drunk he called an uber and instead he got into a cop car and they took him to the hospital
My cardio is walking around the office looking for free food.
If you don't believe in my fighting skills, I don't know if we can be together
"Because this is an ongoing legal matter" is how his morning after sex text began. So...
Not only do I have a well-defined bite mark on my arm, but I also have a perfectly clear bruise of a handprint wrapped around my arm like a tribal tattoo. Thoughts on how that happened?
My favorite bra is missing and I smell like beer and bad decisions. This is definitely a sign that hoe mode is activated.
Ohhhhhh, that night......I need to stop drinking, almost all of my conversations that take place Wed thru Sun after 8:30 are one blurry haze.
Randomize
