so i hit rock bottom, god threw me a shovel. i continued to dig.
i kinda regret how quickly i gave it up to him, but i just wanted the regular fucking to begin soon. ah we made good memories.
He decided not to draw dicks on my face when I passed out because he was afraid I'd retaliate and superglue his dick to his stomach....he knows me too well.
Im pretty sure he just said he wants to make a baby with me, but he's pretty shitfaced, so I'm not sure if he knows who I am.
I mean, once you help another girl drunker than you zip her jeans you can't help but be friends after that
"lets watch the sunrise" turned into "lets have sex on the roof at six thirty in the morning"
he came in the shower with me...i thought it was going to be nice and romantic...until he started peeing on my leg.
you got me arrested i just think that goes without question you owe me a blowjob
I cried singing "call me maybe" on the way home from the bar. What the fuck
Maybe I'm just didn't notice and imagined a different penis as a Freudian coping mechanism?
The sound of my own breathing is making my head throb. That hungover.
But I'm currently thinking of all my bad decision making last night and giving myself a time out.
I FUCKED THE WRONG FRIEND HELP ME
Our livers are going to hate us.
It's okay, they're regenerative. God wanted this.
I remember her making the first martini but the rest of the weekend is a blur of vodka, high heels and sex toys.
First time being used by a cougar. Definitely okay with it
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