The child next door sounds like he's having vigorous sex in the backyard and it's making me very, very uncomfortable. I don't want to look.
It smells like wine and fried chicken. Im confused and intrigued.
When she e-mailed me back asking for proof, complete with hospital intake records, I just told her it was a home-birth. I'm prepared to take the fail.
There's puke on my pillow. I'm still wearing my wedges. And I have a cab drivers number clutched in my fist.
You're either a hooker or Beyonce. Beyonce is abnormally good at doing everything in heels
Fuck you, you can't judge me til you've smelt my boobs.
So because I got upset you didn't answer I threw my phone in the garbage disposal last night
The fact that I took a nap during my midterm shows exactly how I handle being an adult
Young lesbians are the worst. And also what got me through high school, sooooo
I woke up this morning with a tampon in my nose and food EVERYWHERE...
Doing laundry. My jeans from last night smell like chicken wings and motor oil.
he played intl players anthem 4me and ate a strawberry out of my pussy
Well just give me the address, I'll bring the bourbon. If they let that into mental institutions
I can check masterbating in China off the bucket list.
I put miralax in my rum/coke. Go hard or go home.
Randomize
