Just tipped at a bar in cheerios. Suck it.
i need a wealthy benefactor or a cocktail job. or to start stripping. or kill myself. whatever.
Just bought lingerie with the intention of wearing it as a shirt. It's going to be that kind of weekend.
Im blasting "Fat Bottom Girls" as loud as humanely possible in attempts that old ladies doing water aerobics will take the hint and get the fuck out of the pool.
The bartender just asked me if I owned stock in Jameson. I've been here for less than an hour and he's already judging me.
I put the condom across her upper lip. It was like a mustache of a job well done.
I'm at the perfect height to walk up to the corner of my mom's stove and rest my balls on it. Just thought you'd like to know they're warm.
There are several different types of life sentences in my purse right now.
We have started to decorate penises.
I want Samuel L. Jackson to stand beside me and narrate my morning shits.
She is so graceful and lady-like, like a swan... On meth
I want to just live in between your butt cheeks.
He FaceTimed me fucking his new girlfriend. He was wearing a banana costume.
He's tiny, but ripped. Like a stacked hobbit. He's going to pull our sexy, crime-fighting rickshaw.
its like probably shouldnt be sending pics of your asshole to strangers who work in the same building as you
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