If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
You know you're deprived when the only thing you taste while chewing gum is the 2 grams of sugar alcohol.
Security brought me back to our hotel room in a wheelchair last night. Vegas.
And if you ever tell anyone that I will fucking kill you.
You tried feeding my python vodka through a funnel. Fuck off.
I want to say that being forced to stare at the 'no.1 boyfriend' collage behind his head ruined the sex but it just didn't.
The trip involved octopus tentacles coming from the little holes in my TV's speakers. The beauty of the nonexistant symbolism had me in tears.
First thought today, I need a ventriloquist dummy that looks like me. This week's project has been determined.
Selling drugs in raindeer antlers is the best way to spread christmas cheer
He came up to me looked at my tits said they were huge, rated them a 7 and then asked if girls really do masterbate. To make it better, he put his hand up to my face and said his penis is longer than my face...
I dont know what we smoked last night but I woke up and found out I started writing a book called White Trash Princess. Its the best thing Ive ever read
Apparently I missed the "You may have to jack off a horse" part of the application.
She asked how many sexual partners I'd had and I was like "Honestly I don't even know". And then she said "well last time you said 8." And my inner monologue busted out laughing and I was like "Oh I'd say like 11 or 12.....plus 20."
I got my eyebrow ring humped out. How is that even possible?
I really appreciate you taking the time to blur out my excessive boob cleavage for instagram
I was just told that I'm the Sherlock Holmes of drunken sex. I'll take it.
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