Any day that starts with a call from my ex-bf... crying... is a good day.
Ok. In one sink is a hairdrier. Still plugged in. The other is filled with broken glass. What do I do?!
Nvm. Bloody hand trumps dead. Also, where is gauze.
He's had mdma poured down his throat. He's getting huggy.
So my OCD kicked in and I cleaned his kitchen. His roommates were so grateful, they tried to pay me in weed.
YOU ACCEPTED, RIGHT?
Like lay upon bear skin rugs, drink brandy and reminisce of the yesteryear's before a majestic fire place? Because those are my plans.
And if I hated you I'd probably say things like, "I never want to speak to you again," or, "Eat a bag of dicks." That's how you'd know.
That's the saddest description of touching yourself I've heard since someone said "I was just lazily rubbing my clitoris while eating Cheetos alone"
So last night I taught an old homeless dude to respond to "Blue" so I could shout your my boy Blue at the party
I'm not entirely sure what happened last night, but I think I dislocated my kneecap during an epic Mario Kart battle...
I'm drinking and working out! I'm bench pressing the beer pong table and doing push ups and lifting the chair.
I made a nest in his bed. I'm not leaving
He's getting so into these sexts, I hate to tell him I'm fully clothes, watching Bring It On and eating chips and salsa.
My condom drawer is now filled with W-2s and tax return documents. Is this adulting?
i dont think sending her flowers will make her forgive you running over her foot.
I got wing sauce on the baby and licked it off. If you were wondering how I'm doing.
Randomize