I told him I was pregnant. Figured it would soften the blow of telling him I had herpes.
Did it?
Not as such, no.
All my problems are solved. I just got McDonalds and scratch off lottery tickets.
HOnestly. That's my one goal for this whole trip. I don't give a shit about souvenirs or sand. I want penis.
The pregnant Hooters waitress told me to "make good choices".
Monday: I just need a drink Tuesday: OMG no more this week! Wednesday: oh shit how'd I get drunk Thursday: I'm glad you've stopped the pretenses
got delayed, meet you at the bar soon, found a shopping cart, i am now getting pushed to the bar by some guy that was peeing in the alley i found the cart in
You invited the cop in for a "Celebrity shot"
I can't finger myself when I'm all distracted about whether or not your family is going to like me
Well I have rug burns in both armpits, somehow. So yes you should have been here
I woke up to a quacking alarm clock and a rando in my bed. I told him I liked his cargo shorts. Fireball is not my soulmate anymore.
I discovered a new stretch mark. DONE. LITERALLY DONE.
I'm taking a shit break of discontent as a personal protest
A seagull just tried to steal my cellphone
Not only do I have a well-defined bite mark on my arm, but I also have a perfectly clear bruise of a handprint wrapped around my arm like a tribal tattoo. Thoughts on how that happened?
If I could tell my younger self three things it would be: 1. Smoke a lot more weed 2. Have a lot more sex 3. Own a good set of pots and pans
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