oh vodka. i could write you a sonnet.
Freshman orientation day on campus. Dear diary, JACKPOT.
my sex list reads like a who's who of mcdonald's general managers
I have been standing totally still for the past 6 minutes because I was convinced my foot was tied to the ground. It turns out it was a string of hair strewn across my foot
Let's just say there's a reason that "suede" rhymes with "laid".
I don't call you at 3 in the morning to start a fucking relationship.
Poopin on the sidewaaalllkkk. I wish my text told you that was a song
I remember her trying to talk to me a few times after we broke up and I'd always change the subject to bagels.
I'm sitting the next couple hours out. Puking in a potted plant really put shit into perspective for me.
It's ok, I may have just peed outside your car and used your whataburger napkins. Hope you weren't saving them for a special occasion.
I can feel my ovaries exploding thinking about them.
And I was chasing apple pie moonshine (provided by cops) with bud light limeys. In a golf cart, wearing a tiara.
I reek of vagina.. My cab driver commented.
I have an interview tomorrow and listed you as a reference. If they call you, please don't tell them about the time I smuggled a Chalupa out of Taco Bell in my underwear.
If sandwichs had dicks, my life would be complete
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