woke up to an unread text message i sent to myself: "brreakfdast..pork and ice cream."
I just asked my hair stylist how many percocets she'd do my hair for.
the bathroom floor of the diner looks a lot different when you're not rolling around and puking on it.
You can't just send the picture of my vagina back to me, 2 months after we broke up, and make small talk out of it.
So how many licks to the face does it take to get kicked out of the bar?
I just melted my phone trying to make cookies. I think that's a sign.
Last I remember we played rock paper scissors for who would fuck the guy with cowboy boots on and I won..
The goal for tonight is vagina. In and around. Doesn't matter who. How. Or why.
The fact that you're allowing Santa to dry hump your ass is sort of a dealbreaker
omg this is getting ridiculous. nobody's vagina should ever be this neglected.
If you don't see me at the bar tomorrow night, I was most likely captured by the communists.
Fuck it, if you can't drink cheep beer and whiskey with me, I don't want you.
Tis the season to play Pocahontas! (AKA: Eat a bunch of acid and run around the yard barefoot, the first person to see the colors of the wind, wins!)
The fact that I’m not married yet means there are millions of lucky girls out there who have dodged a bullet
He goes "what would you say if I told you I like to get it in?" def a potential soulmate right there.
Randomize
