I got raped by $2 you call it's. I'm still hammered. And mentoring high school kids. My life is a joke.
The neighbors are smoking hash and doing Julia Child impressions...again.
We had sex on the hood of my car and broke the windshield.
I brought up my Bobbly Flay drinking game in the interview. Of course I got the job.
Fuck winter. I had to scrape my windshield, shoeless, after the walk of shame so I could go home.
The lid of our salsa is promoting a contest that ended in July '09
will you please stage a drunk girl intervention and tell him that his chain is severely harming his chances of getting laid tonight?
I did, I'm just saying. Once the drinking starts my nipples are no longer my control.
Flaming shots last night. Missing an eye brow. There a connection?
I fingered myself to realization that I don't need birth control if there is never a guy.
I'm going through our high school yearbook trying to find what boys I want to hook up with this summer. We graduated four years ago. That's a problem.
I know. I'm a saint. Saint of sitting on faces.
In reference to the club we were headed to our cab driver told us about the time he had sex with a woman on the dance floor there. And what do you know, they're celebrating their 22 marriage anniversary together this year! True love does exist!
He had a vasectomy. I think I'm in love.
Why did I wake up naked with a leg cramp and and extra $550 in my wallet?
Randomize
