I wish they made sweatshirts for legs
you mean pants?
It's American, baby! There ain't nothin gross about America.
all we ever talk about is how much i like your dick or my drug problem.
terrible decisions. terrible terrible terrible decisions.
who'd you have sex with.
I don't know how many crown and cokes he went through but I know it was more that I have fingers. We are never leaving Texas.
I am literally missing a chunk of eyelashes. That's how fun it was.
I left boob prints on the hood of his car. Something to remember me by.
Meeting relatives from another state drenched in tequila and smelling of weed. I'm gonna kill you for soaking the only bra I brought in Jose Cuervo Gold.
Is it love? I honestly haven't even thought about watching porn for over a week now, and haven't thought about fucking any strangers either. It's quite eerie.
There still is not and there never will be anything as magical as getting high while listening to William Shatner's version of Bohemian Rhapsody.
When we were texting for those few weeks, I some how established a crush on you. And its weird and wild and stupid and silly. But these things just have to be said sometimes to determine what's real and what is infatuation. And to suffer the consequences of five am drunk philosophy. No regrets.
I don't blame you. I made YouTube videos of me singing Rent songs then slept with a married couple. Fucking tequila.
Having to do the walk of shame on crutches was defiently a first for me. cheers to the governor, klove
I think it’s appropriate to celebrate the start of mother’s day at the bar with the men that almost made me a mother
I pointed at him and said “there goes mr fuckwad”
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