Last night was a blur. All I remember is jizzing in the squeegee bucket at a gas station.
The look on the soccer mom's face was PRICELESS.
He came through my line today and bought designer impostor perfume, just for men gel, and astroglide. I almost DIED.
Hard to imagine a reason apart from blow jobs that I'm awake at 530 am.
State Street has never looked so beautiful than during my walk of shame.
I almost punched the night nurse in her face. I woke up and she was standing over me.
She kept chasing him yelling thief, because he drank some of her drink. That was at 8, it got worse.
There's still flour in my hair. And I don't even want to know what the neighbors think happened infront of my house.
we're like Indians of the 21st century. trading not for food and survival but personal gain and by trouble you mean getting daytime drunk and going to the roller ring then yes.
It blows my mind that pandora doesn't have an : I want to lay in bed in the dark and be sad and cold and eat frozen mangos and chipotle all day station
She must've been waiting down the street cause after I said I specialized in inner-thigh-face-massage it couldn't have been 2 minutes until she was on my couch.
He sat next to me, put his arm around me, yelled at his girlfriend that he was breaking up with her, and told me I'm his little pet for the night.
If you enjoy dance recitals as much as I do, that's one shitty Father's Day...
But what we lack in money, we make up for in dry humor and drugs
I'm so high right now that I winked back at a character in this TV show.
You couldn’t remember the word hand jibber. Instead, your drunk ass offered the bartenders “unlimited hand fritters” if they wouldn’t cut you off.
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