I am dying of drunk and no thats not a typo.
I like the name aiden. he likes stella. I told him they're coming out of my vagina, and I will name them what I damn well please. Stella goes.
recycled a plan b box. kill a baby. save a tree.
i really need to stop putting makeup on my cats..
I'm thinking we can stop tracking my sex life by the hotels I've hooked up in and instead use bar bathrooms I've gotten head in.
I have bruises everywhere. I think I took "the drinks are strong" as more of a challenge than a warning.
Some guy in lab is humming along to a Sara Barrilles song. Or maybe I'm just hearing the song echoing in his huge, gaping vagina.
Ya. I wonder how much being a beard for a major league baseball player pays. This could be a lucrative arrangement...
Also, as my manager i'm going to put you in charge of making sure i don't drown.
Your level of morning after guilt is too much right now. Do less.
I was going to make you have an awkward boner around all your coworkers but then I fell asleep.
I accused him of not drinking enough alcohol and eating tacos after midnight. I was sober and he's not a gremlin. I would say bad.
Just once I'd like to go out and not have to tell you to put your pants back on.
She's still mad at me for saying she looked pregnant and not getting her chicken nuggets.
Also—I just realized that your wedding gift is still on my dining room table. So...as awful as I am for not yet sending it (and I still need your address), at least I didn’t bring my screaming children to potentially the most important day of your life?
Randomize
