Hemmingway ran to paris to avoid going to the university of illinois and becoming a doctor. It was there he developed a drinking problem. I need a plane ticket.
He told me that he wishes our relationship was more like prison: less touching, more butt sex.
he's like a stage 5 clinger and he won't even fuck me. he has to be gay. my personality isn't really THAT great.
All I remember is that the bartender wouldn't give me scissors cuz I was too drunk
not much just sitting outside his bathroom door naked eating cheetoes. You?
Im covered in vodka and melted gummys. Fuck summer.
And on the seventh day, God carefully sculpted your cock to fit perfectly into my masterpiece of a vagina. Then he rested. Look it up.
So topless strobe light beer pong turned into me rugby tackling a bitch to the ground.my tits will never forgive me for sacrificing their majesticness for responsibility
His new place is a molesden. Like a hole in the ground. It's frightening how oddly private it is.
It rubs the lotion on it's foreskin...
Sorry, I was trapped in a small closet behind a washer. What's up?
MY BRAIN IS OSCILLATING. DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE
You know darned well I have a well-documented weakness for redheads, Subway and hand-drawn graphic novels.
It was fine. Until I accidentally shit on his floor.
My husband gave me a key to his house. I thinks this means we're getting kinda serious.
I just got back like 5 minutes ago, I have two champagne bottles that I carried with me on the train home and a Dunkin donuts coffee cup full of stolen butter, I've been in a windowless room for the last 6 hours, time does not exist
what is your life
Free champagne that's what
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