You know it's time to leave Spain when you are back and forth between Skype and a Spanish dictionary trying to figure out out to say "I can still smell you on my skin."
i wanted to go smoke pot, so i told my mom i was getting tutored. she asked what time i would be back, i told her learning doesn't have a curfew
It was ok at first, but now im getting freaked out by him jerking off to me doing yoga
he's mad because you were 'slandering his penis'.
She compares her life to Teen Mom. She's 28.
In hindsight, the torn ligament in my knee is probably the fault of the ginbucket and jager bombs starting at 3pm. I guess I'll stop blaming it on you.
she kept asking for a lobster dinner while she was crying. it was actually the most reasonable drunk chick request i've ever heard.
She has puke on the back of her shirt not quite sure how the hell she did that
I invited you and you fucked me in the face with the penis of disappointment and shit.
I have straight up perfected the art of amazing manicures with shaky-as-fuck adderall hands. Also, I'm way too proud of this.
I asked him to sing a song so he couldn't hear me throwing up as he was holding my hair
i had every intention of working out now im just drinking wine and thinking about taking nudes in my thigh high tube socks
there's crying, and people are upset, and there's a love triangle, and a broken heart, and so much estrogen
I purposely left my thong and accidentally left my ethics book, hairspray and most of my dignity.
Something is wrong here. The birds are chirping and I'm not fucking you, I'm not getting head and I don't smell bacon. Why am I up this early then?
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