The shirt is mine, the pants are mine, the bra not so much
I think my mom's writing a book called how to fuck with your kids when you know they're high
its like she was born with a silver dick in her mouth
She paints her nails the color of the sheets of the last guy she slept with
oh don't forget that when we go furniture shopping we have to find a matching bong so put more money in the furniture fund
i woke up in the fire place with a lighter in my hand. if i would have died the night would have made up for it.
Where is my rescue team. I keep hiding shit. And I'm trying to give out shots of olive oil
I don't feel bad about fucking old guys. That's what I want. It's what I likeeeeee.
Is it bad that I don't ask for names anymore? Just added "gold-chain-wearing hotel guy" to my list under "minivan 3way" and "funny-tasting gym guy."
You passed out with your mouth on the faucet, straddling the keg, with your arms wrapped around it
I like how my motivation to lose weight is so I can wear a nude bikini and get covered in body paint for the tribal party. Priorities.
I don't even remember what he looks like. All I know is he's 6 foot 100. I like that.
I just compared my relationship to that double ended dong scene from Requiem. This day just took a turn.
I haven't even lived here for 24 hours yet, and I've already banged someone. My new hoe life is off to a great start.
Sorry I can't pick up... thought process is fine but too stoned to form words.
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