Like all of my pajamas are shirts of guys I shacked with in college
and all i could think was, am i really about to have sex with someone who still thinks that pee comes out of the actual vagina?
i need a wealthy benefactor or a cocktail job. or to start stripping. or kill myself. whatever.
We decided to go to McDs, but we only had a few minutes to make it to breakfast. We were sprinting full speed ahead when she tripped and you just yelled 'LEAVE HER' and kept your course.
I want him to come over and snuggle with me but put a bag over his head. Is that rude?
It's not rude if you use a pillowcase that's softer.
It was almost as bad as the time I peed on the floor of the Pentagon's subway station.
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
I'm drinking your booze since you ate my pop-tarts. I'm telling you this because I still don't think it's a fair trade.
I'm handling the NHL draft worse than getting dumped this week
It's not a funeral, it's a celebration of life. Going commando AND braless is really just honoring him!
As much as my throat was opened up this weekend, you'd think I wouldn't nearly choke on a damn almond.
Considering all of my stomach contents ended up in my center console, I'm a bit peckish.
I've been sober for almost two weeks and it's been the worst two weeks ever. Even my mom told me I need to start drinking again.
I'm driving to work hungover. I feel like I got hit by a train and then drank that train too.
I just got the high sucked out of me. Fuck.
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