I'm totally counting that party when he kept putting his hands down my pants as a date.
Actions speak louder than pants.
Awww, you two will make beautiful abortions together...
Too many sundays start with me waking up still drunk in my car.
Also got home. Still stoned. Mom was up. We made a pizza and were writing a children's book. Sleep good.
At what point does "I'm too high to deal with you right now" stop being rude?
Happy Birthday. May your liver respect you, fat bitches neglect you, hangovers reject you, and AA accept you.
We got to his house at 7am and two random guys were on the couch shot gunning beers saying we were late for the party
I'm pretty sure there a million tiny ninjas in my uterus poking me with sticks.
Less adorably, the dog stared me down, yelping, while I gave him a morning blowie.
He's all enlightened and liberal. My next beefcake will be much more Neanderthal.
I'm high. The text bubbles floating do no justice to the underwater experiences
I may or may not be sitting in a bubble bath drinking wine, watching Jurassic park, and wearing a Russian fur hat.
Dude she is fucking shit up. Her baby would be proud
My vagina! What have you done to it?
Blessed it my child.
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