My feet smell like cheese. Makes me hungry.
so..some girl walked up to me on the porch last night. She came to apologize for peeing on our lawn a few days ago. I just looked at her and said it was ok, she wasn't the first.
His shopping cart was nothing but malt liquor and zucchini.
I just found out I was conceived in a rehab facility... that's better than finding out your dad could be someone else right?
Ah shit... I sleep-ate chocolate pudding again.
I think I've lost the thrill of being a slut. It's just that the newness has worn off, I think.
I'm still waiting for my blazer that I left at your apartment, you owe me a blowjob for every day from Thursday on that it's late.
How many layers of skin can you loose before it becomes bad?
I won't be able to make it. Too hung over. Can't hold down fluids. I'm in the bathtub trying to hydrate my body through osmosis. And yes, Tequila Tuesday is totally still on for tonight.
Blackout me just wants to pee on sober me's dreams. Literally.
Did you miss the part about my hangover needing a day to rest?
Either she's trying to smother me and failing, or she just has a really bad sense of where her tits should go.
Last night's dream consisted of you, me, a sauce pan full of cocaine and light sabers. I almost cried when I woke up.
We fucked while The Odyssey played in the background. Homer would be proud.
I went to a swingers party and came home with a boyfriend. I love my life.
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