just woke up and my boobs have "fun police" written on them
The highlight of my Saturday night was singing along to the sound of music alone in my room.
I'm surrounded by too many unhungover people.
he fucked me to the beat of the construction going on outside my house. i will never look at jackhammers the same ever again.
Like fighting the continuous urge to sing Neil diamond "coming to America" kinda fucked up right now
Such a good question, let's ask the alcohol gods for the answer.
Your lack of enthusiasm for my exciting news of drunken debauchery with an otherwise occupied vagina of one of my greatest conquests yet disturbs me. I'm not happy with you
I sent him a picture of my boobs instead of saying good morning. I'm trying to tell him how I feel in a language he'll understand.
Actually let's just focus our energy on not getting committed to a psych ward.
I just spent 12 consecutive hours in the same outfit and none of it was pajamas. If that's not personal growth, I don't know what is.
I was struggling morally, but once I let go, I came pretty hard.
I just don't understand why your parents aren't supporting your dreams of being a medieval weapon smith.
he drove over two hours to fuck me and came in 3 minutes. he got mad when I asked him if it was worth it...
I woke up at 6:30 in the morning on the A train on 14th street. You wouldn't know anything about that right?
You were up on table in a neon bra chanting "YOUR MOM" while drizzling vodka on your chest...
no wonder i woke up with my boobs stuck to my bra
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