She rode me to the beat of Baby Got Back. I swear to god.
You kept telling that ginger girl, "it's not your fault, it's not your fault, it's not your fault."
Who would win... a chainsaw pooping pterodactyl or a bear with machine guns for feet. big debate about this right now
Her life is proof that being a drunken slut will get you places.
I'm wearing red that night.
Noted, what shade?
Whore.
She said my new name was "ranch" because I "looked delicious"
Any chance you used one if the curtain rods in the fireplace room as a sword? One is missing
I wish men found my impeccable aim when spitting into the sink attractive.
Question. Was fucking Laura an entirely regrettable decision?
like...quickly.
You grabbed the hot guy that was making out with his girlfriend all night, slurred "I need to borrow this" then shoved your hand down his pants. All because you thought your ex walked into the bar. It was majestic in its shitshowness.
The number of mornings I actually have to say out loud to myself "you must put pants on and go to work" to get motivated is...troubling.
He literally stole all the change that was on my floor and ran away while I was peeing. I have to rethink my standards.
I had to give myself a suppository. That was the LEAST fun I've had inserting things in my ass.
i could only love him more if he was covered in glitter.
I slept with six men with different nationalities this week. Who says I'm not a woman of culture?
Randomize
