i was texting myself key events from last night so i could remember this morning. looked at my phone, texted my mother instead. our numbers differ by 1 digit
its like the voldemort of pregnancies, we don't talk about it
So...it's hour 4 of day 5 of week 7 of my internship, and so far all ive done is shred paper. all. day. long. it's like working for Enron.
I got drunk and smashed his tv with the keg and so he blames me for being evicted.
fine. I googled it. you have to eat 5 to die so apparently I'm in the clear.
I am growing concerned with the number of people here in cowboy hats
Not many best friends can say they've all made out with a homeless guy
would you say our friendship is at the "help each other shave animal patterns in each other's pubes" phase?
it's gotten to the point where there are no existing good choices. even our good choices are bad choice by anyone's standards but ours.
As long as he continues to be our subleaser and continues to fuck me, I think it's acceptable for me to steal a piece of bread here and there.
He sends me pictures of his dogs and I send him my tits, it's a win win situation
I'm like 89% sure I could get him to buy me a car in exchange for a half-assed handy.
I knew it was you who came home last night because no one else would walk in at 3 am and start microwaving a burrito
I thought I'd never say this, but if I had to choose between these cookies and sex, it would be these cookies
You microwaved all of my silverware, I don't care if you spent all your money on tequila, you're paying for this.
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