and then you made a playlist that was just "party in the usa" on repeat...
He's trying to wipe up all the spilled drinks with a banana
I think I need to stop sleeping with him. Sex with him is just a reminder of the mediocrity of the rest of my life.
gay flight attendant. racoons. kegels. bartender with missing teeth. too many birthdays. fucckk.
I'm laying in the fetal position on the floor of my kitchen eating potato salad with my fingers. Please come over with some real food and keep me company.
I just fucked her in her boyfriends bathroom... he was in the room sleeping.
She's posted my bail. Twice. Of course I'm going to be her wing girl.
An image of us stuck like that like Pompeii comes to mind. A wonder for future anthropologists
id one day like to live in a world full of emotionless and wonderfully fullfilling sex...
I now have a bottom rung on my kissing scale. Like I can say "Well. On a scale of Matt to Braxton he was probably a Zach." It's the little things.
He awkwardly handed me plan b on Pickens Street... it was like a sketchy drug deal.
last thing I remember is yelling 'sit on my face' through a traffic cone
honestly my period and I are just as surprised to see each other every month
he asked me if i wanted to hook up & my answer was 'why not'. he came in thirty seconds and the condom broke. it's the love story of the century
What I'm doing now is like me taking a bagel, dropping it butter side down, leaving it for six years, picking it back up, and trying to fuck it
Randomize
