There's a woman at Starbucks that keeps pushing her stroller into me.
Punch her baby.
He plays me like an instrument...he is the Carlos Santana of my vagina.
He's drinking red wine in a margarita glass. He couldn't be more perfect for me.
No. No, there is no forgiveness for this. The only way I'm forgiving you for this is if you somehow convince your sister to have sex with me. In her car.
Is it uncouth to have a themed intervention? I know how much you like Star Wars.
it doesn't matter, he's just a life support system for his dick
Woke her up in the middle of the night with the smell from a fart. So proud of my colon.
When you're looking for your panties tomorrow, you traded them for a blunt on the train.
in other news, i feel like i just shat out all my sins.
like, by the end of my shift people were asking if I'd sobered up enough to take a drink order yet. that bad.
I wrote myself a letter, like I think drunk me wants to be pen pals or something
don't bring your nerd jargon into this conversation about my naked body
I met someone else! And I had a wonderful orgasm! And he wants to see me again, like take me out!
No, I didn't meet up with him! That's when I had chlamydia.
Don't worry about it too much, but I just committed us to possibly raising a kid
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