Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
he said i took off my shirt and wrote "help HATI" on my tits, and charged people to motorboat me..... i'd like to say i woke up with 267$ in my purse
today i did the best job ever shaving. like my vagina is PERFECT. plus i straightened my hair for a good hour. if i don't get ass tonight, i'm killing a baby.
Ok. Also I almost just threw up. Seriously. I was think to myself "really? Here? Now? At my work desk?" and then it went away.
we just drove by a car that was painted for a grad, it said "you done it!" with a confederate flag bumper sticker next to it. i love kentucky
I just got cash back from buying a pregnancy test so that I can buy a case of joose. My life is in shambles.
the only thing coherent you said from what i saw of you is when you were throwing up, i asked if you were done and you just "uh huh you know what it is"
We had to coat check the pizza.
Getting high magically turns headaches into rainbows.
I have a strict rule of what enters my vajay. It's either sparkly, or human. Anything else and I draw the line. Standards.
There was a pirates of the caribbean marathon on. No matter how much you like rum, it is NOT possible to outdrink the pirates. They always win.
When we were fucking he said and I quote "we're like a sex fajita"
Night one million where I have madri gra beads around my neck and no justifiable reason for where they came from
I have a vagina. So i automatically win.
He tried to kiss me in the middle of hooking up... it was a deal breaker. I got off him and left.
So making out with chicks at the bar is fine and dandy, but your booty call can't kiss you? You have the strangest fucking rules...
Randomize
