I'm upset that MJ died and all but waking up to his face on my HDTV in the middle of the night while half-asleep is pretty much the scariest fucking thing ever.
Now that I'm the boss, there's nobody to yell at me for smelling like a bar in the morning.
Alone. In an inflatable pool. Drinking vodka and raspberry lemonade. I don't need approval as much as I need to know you love me still.
This hotel is not contributing to my sobriety, they have 4 kinds of free wine and beer.
in respone to your voicemail you left me on saturday, yes i had gone to bed and no i was not still drinking at 5am
promise me that when we are 32, we will look nothing like Kim Zolciak. Promise me right this instant.
Cause your way of greeting people at the club was grabbing a tit and jiggling it while yelling a name, which usually wasn't theirs, and guys weren't safe either.
My mom is lecturing me about 'invaluable housekeeping skills' while I google 'cocktails involving gin' on my phone. I can feel the generational gap looming in her silent judgment of my choices.
I realize designer coke was a douchey thing to say but the point of the story is I did bath salts
My inner pteradactyl is also confused.
If you buy me a steak I will make the extra effort to ride you. If not, I'm just gonna lay there.
I feel like I should remember what we did after leaving the party because apparently a llama was involved, but all I can manage is the part where I asked you to cuff my ankle to the bed so I wouldn't backflip away.
Why is there never any toilet paper at his apartment? What does he wipe his ass with? WHAT DOES HE WIPE IT WITH?!?
Would an open wound count as good sex or bad sex?
But I’m still curious to know... how did the homemade porno go?
Randomize
