i can smell the iron from margo's period blood from across the table.
after you threw up, you tried to prove you were sober by reading the ingredients off the shampoo bottles
I just looked at my iPhone gps history... "the gas station", "the park with a big scary fence", "the trampoline", and, my favorite, "where we were when we were about to do lines off a bible".
didn't have any spoons so I beer bonged my chicken noodle soup. I fucking love camping.
oh and i'm sorry i sold you for three cigarettes last night
2 more and I will have fucked 75 percent of my acting class. best. elective. ever.
He kept calling my vagina a magic clam, and it was speaking to him, telling him to feed it his penis. I played along.
id say bad/good trip...at first I wanted to claw off my skin... but then when i tried i ended up tickling myself for an hour.
I don't think I even want to know why you are sending my husband pictures of your nutsack.
Still not sure if my open-bar-week-long-trip to Cuba is the best idea as a congratulations-for-my-sober-february-challenge. My liver might just explode and give up.
They are stoned and trying to learn sign language together. It's like watching a chimp waving at itself in a mirror.
My RA just sigh me high as fuck acting like a zombie and scratching at my door. Thoughts?
I tried to think of the best possible thing I could do for my 30th birthday, and the finalist is "get a clit ring"
What's the plan?
Not sure. I think I'll take a dump on his windshield.
He's got a british accent, a tounge ring, and he's wearing an eye patch... Of corse I'm fucking him
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