i threw up in a trash can last night at kellys irish times. but in a trash can because i'm a lady
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
he just sent me a friend request on facebook. i wish it were physically possible to vomit on him through the internet.
we left the bar for like 10 minutes last night and moved his car so it wouldnt get towed. neither of us have a clue where it is right now.
This is so stupid. Now I have to call the party planner and tell her that the break up party is off. They decided to get back together.
I don't know at least half of his name. I have officially become a statistic.
He just texted me from the outside of the hospital. He called the fat broad in the bar mrs snuffleupagus about 60 times and she broke a bottle of blackberry brandy over his head.
she woke me up with a blowjob, mickey mouse pancakes, a mugshot of my ex in county jail, and tequilla. Do you know if she fucked someone behind my back or did i win the vagina lottery?
There is no way I am paying you $5 apiece for pot brownies you found behind a dumpster. $2, maybe.
THAT FUCKER WASTED TWO OF MY COLORED CONDOMS! HE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING FINISH IN IT HE JUST SLAPPED IT ON AND WASTED IT!
Regardless of age or alcohol consumption, the knowledge that my dad spanks my mom sexually has the very real potential to fuck my shit up.
Its like bringing all that milkshake to the yard and I'm a diabetic and can't have any
I'm trying to poop and took acid, this is going to end horrid or wonderful. Oh the amusement park, not the pooping.
Well, I sent nudes with an Elmo t shirt on the floor... so there's that.
I know I may be showing my age by saying this but this is the first time I have been eaten out in the parking lot behind the Clairmont Inn since 1990
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