I'm tuning in to watch Heidi Montag crash and burn on the Miss Universe Pageant. Somebody call 911. and I'm not talking about the Sean Kingston song.
He called me from prison intake to wish me luck on my job interview. Somehow that's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me.
you could never motorboat her...you'd have to motor-titanic her
she kept yelling about wanting tacos, so I gave her a piece of bologna in a tortilla. she didn't know the difference
I just found that video of you jumping onto my exercise ball feet-first and face-planting into my shoe rack.
Boys that pee in my bed don't get happy birthday wallposts on facebook
I found him in his pink and white boxer out side the dorm hall and the only thing he said was "it wouldn't let me in"
She told me to pick her up in the corner of shame and self-disgust.
I just had to pick up my "let's drink and make bad choices" hat, my banana suit and beer pong table from work. Until just then I couldn't figure out why I got fired.
I'm scrolling through our convo thread and all we talk about is pizza, alcohol & dick with the occasional "I miss you" thrown in.
Just laying in bed, snuggling my cat, and pondering whether I'd like to attend a swingers party this evening...
I'm out of breath and my thighs burn but at least it's over.
Lighting a fucking bong with a candle. Straight up dedication.
So, I need to know. Why did you spraypaint your underwear gold?
The work outs are working. Someone just said my body type was “Tits On A Stick”.
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