you sent me 5 happy birthday texts last night. one after the other. spelled differently.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
Note to self: soco dudes get amusinly uncomfotable when I moan at the urinal.
I told him to go down on me and when he did he started crying!! I asked him why and he said my vag looked just like his ex girlfriends!!!
Why were you staring at her like that over breakfast?
Because I was eating with a spoon to remind her that she threw up on my hand while she was MAKING me spoon with her after our drunk sex. She got it. Don't worry.
I pulled an all nighter. So hoped up on coffee and aderall. Pretty sure you could take my pulse through a snow jacket...
He thought my hair would soak it up. I HAD TO CUT IT OFF.
Myy bathroom floor makes me think I'm on Mars. Also. Did you realize that yesterday we perfected thee mind high-five??
All I want to do is get high and needlepoint. Fuck your judgement
him and the cab driver we buy e from got into a fist fight, about which show is better, futurama or family guy.
Forced to cancel my booty call due to the snowpocalypse. This crosses the line.
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
this whole "benign brain tumor" is truly a blessing in disguise. I almost want to start bringing MRIs to the bar because sympathy pussy is flowing like the nile
So I'll be starting a scrapbook from all the mugshots of the guys I've slept with
Slowly dying because of my period and my phone is mocking me because I have 69% battery
Randomize