My autobiography is now tentatively titled "I'm Fucking the DJ, and Other Ways to Party for Cheap"
and if my full six pack comes in by Halloween there is no stopping the man slut costume. I have no shame
As long as you're naked and covered in glow paint, I'm there.
all law school has taught me so far is how to fart quietly during lectures and how to out-argue the ice cream guy when he screws me out of extra toppings.
Left and drinking by a bar by myself. Everyone is in pajamas. I'm in a tuxedo. This is my life.
And please let him know I don't normally go off on long rants about feminist theory. That was totally the vodka talking.
I can get there in 20, one question, Drress Code? Stripper Lite (make up may require an additional 5-10 minutes), Suggestive Professor (professor Kamil's cleavage ain't got nothing on me), Daywear, Dyke (and trust me you ain't seen dyke), or Exactly What I'm Wearing Right Now. (all of the above may arrive under a coat and are subject to my level of sobriety. Which is currently like nonexistent).--xoxo you know you love me, Gossip Girl.
I knew you were super hungover. But so hungover you fire our house cleaner because her vacuums too loud is excessive
there was so much lube in my brother's closet...
I mean go ahead and let your freak flag fly but if you could not fly it in my bed that would be great
I'm sure as hell not getting hoodwinked into going back to rehab again
I am talking to a naked lesbian about robots. I think this means I win life.
I just threw up in the bushes and my gardener started clapping...
Does it look too obvious if I buy wine and candles!?! In my defense there is a gigantic snow storm coming.
Why yes, I DID want cramps for Christmas, how did you know God?
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