I just pulled a feather out of my vagina.
I am not joking.
Her name starts with A and ends with whore.
Apparently I ran up to the group of cookie-cutter blonde chicks and screamed "Delta Gamma Nuuuuuuu!" really excitedly and tried to hug them and share fake sorority stories with them.
And then I interrupted the father of the groom, to ask if she was "ballet or pole" in the middle of his story about his niece, the dancer.
He just walked in our room casually and said "big girls are hungry"
If by "in control" you mean him showing-up to work wasted, calling a customer a "fuckstick," and getting fired on the spot? Then yes, he is.
It's that time of the week again where I begin to ponder life's great questions like, "What will my pathetic excuse for a future look like?" and "Why tacos?"
Cut a hole in the crotch of my onesie so we could have sex without me getting cold. Best decision of my life.
I just slammed another champagne, swaggered over to her, pointed across the room at the 20 y/o lacrosse player and whispered loudly, "I brought that one for YOU." I'm getting a raise.
Your vase full of piss was still at his house and he still doesn't know.
I got stoned and explored ice caves with a guy who photographs dildos for a living. I win.
What happened?
New Orleans
Every time
His dick is a skeleton key. It fits everywhere.
I woke up this morning cradling my vibrator like it was a baby
I feel like ditching all logic and responsibility and get shit-faced before the week's over. Thoughts?
Randomize
