My parents showed me my IQ test from fourth grade, I'm shitting on my potential.
my brother is about to go smoke a joint outside... he's preparing his munchies on the counter beforehand. I admire his responsibility.
I put labels all over the house on things I think are mine. A cactus, the dog, and a bottle of wine.
And when he pulled me off the bathroom floor, he just looked at the cat litter stuck to my chin and said "oh sweetie" and shook his head. I think my dad's officially given up hope.
Marking my student's "don't do drugs" posters while simultaneously texting my dealer, is this what being a grown up is like?
He actually offered up a silent prayer thanking God for my "tremendous ass." You tell me how my night is going.
Given he decided my interview was a date, showed up drunk and insisted on carrying me everywhere, we weren't off to a good start.
I don't care how fucking drunk you are, you don't forget wanting to shove a wine bottle up someone's ass.
I think I'm allergic to vodka. Or people getting engaged. One or the other. I want to die.
My mom just made me promise her that i'll care about the next guy I sleep with
I would agree. Whose business is it if I like to guzzle vodka by the liter on my of time? Answer: mine.
They put me in room 420 every time and I take bubble baths and smoke in the room and they bring food TO MY BED
Lunch?
Massage?
Spanking with handcuffs?
FINE. BE CELIBATE AND ACCUMULATE CATS. SEE IF I CARE.
we got cockblocked by his mom again...its like she has a radar on me
please stop trying to sleep with him
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