i don't remember her name, but i don't need it unless we decide to hook up again. but even then, i can get away with not knowing it for a while. it's not like we have actual conversations.
it is 7:54 and i am surrounded by drunk old people. drunk enough that my grandmother and her friend just compared boobs. as in, shirts off, bras coming down. save me.
Just assessed the damage in the bath. Two love bites. One bruise on the inner thigh. Strange awareness of what i'm assuming is my cervix. I've definitely missed you. x
I mean, I'm all about sharing, but when he tells me about his wet dreams about Oprah, I think it's taking it too far.
I just scrubbed chocolate off the bathtub... You better have had a damn good birthday
She just passive-aggressively stripped in the kitchen while humming the theme to Doug.
I'm approaching homosexuality at an increasingly alarming rate with each break up.
These welts and bruises from letting gay boys whip my thighs last night are a clear indication i should lay off the tequila.
we're decorating our christmas cookies with birth control. so pretty.
weekly advice from mom, "Drink vodka, it las hess calories"
He tried to puke in the 14th hole and when I told him to stop he started chanting "hole in one hole in one"
She gatecrashed the wedding and managed to get an invite to the open bar reception. Lucky bitch
I also farted in bed this morning and said, "I don't even care. My body deserves that."
this morning's inventory: a top hat, two empty bottles of everclear, half a slim jim, cigars, tiara, pot necklace, and some fishnets. and that's just my purse.
So I met one of her cousins last night. She recognized me as "the guy that's always in the liquor store", I may have a problem.
Randomize
