Definitely locked eyes with the stripper who gave me a lapdance last night as she walked by me and into the Ann Taylor Loft in Times Square.
why didn't you say something constructive like "stop chugging that vodka"?
the beat of "birthday sex" is shockingly similar to my dry heaving rhythm. it's making me nauseous all over again.
You were petting your shoe and saying this makes me really happy
I found him in the livingroom trying to soak up broken glass with the clock from the kitchen.
If it's not soft enough to fuck on, then we're not getting the new rug.
There is no way I am paying you $5 apiece for pot brownies you found behind a dumpster. $2, maybe.
I cannot be this high in this house. This house has so many of my secrets in its walls.
Alright, deal. Settling two drug deals before noon is what I call a productive day. I'm not even gonna go to math, I've practiced enough numbers for the day.
My god. His mom just smacked my ass. Does this mean I'm accepted??
You're like the Mr. T of my A-team, only less gold jewelry and more pitying of fools.
That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day.
I feel like shit, and I can't get the band aids off my nipples.
It's not vacation until I get called "disgustinly sexy" by an fat woman whose older than my mother.
I refuse to believe this is a lapse in my dick hunting skills. It's gotta be the gods playing a game.
Sooooooooooooo you woke up on a rooftop. Classy
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