I hate when laundry day is determined by the number of cum stains on my bed
Drinking wine. Reading twilight. On a Friday night. Biggest loser contest. First Place.
He started to notice that i sleep with every girl he calls dibs on.
he gave me a new purse full of weed and five boxes of samoas for my birthday. best boyfriend ever.
His beard is glorious and he smells like barbecue. Introduce me to him.
well that explains the french fry and ketchup packet rolled into the wasitband of my sweats. thank you drunk me.
last nights episode of shot friends brought to you by polish vodka and flamingo baseball. pickles cure hangovers.
Hospital. He tried giving some kid a stone cold stunner during a real fight.
were you high?
When?
Actually just blanket yes to that question
That is NOT what pussyfooting around means. Try that again with your toe and I break it off.
Just walked past the field playing Jesus music with a fanny pack full of condoms and beer. Happy Sunday.
I need to be her Aladdin, and show her the world. The sex world.
There are far too many naked dudes in your apartment, and they aren't even watching porn. I mean seriously, they've got the Lion King on.
When your job has killed your spirit to the point that you don't want to flirt with the cute, tall guy at Enterprise
GIRL PLEASE. GO BACK AND POP THE TITTY OUT
i feel like i shouldn't just had to send a text that said "no i will not eat your ass"
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