Apparently I called 911 everytime Sean Kingston told me to
You bet me 100 dollars that the Raiders would win the super bowl this year. I have it on tape.
The stoners next door have their couch on the sidewalk again, shirtless, soaking their feet in a baby pool and listening to loud ukulele music. I want their life.
He tried to say "god bless your heart" to the stripper but it came out "god bless your pussy"
We asked "Is that Andy puking in the bushes, its 7 AM" he looks up and goes "It's okay guys, its 7:30"
Guess who left Professor Cunt on their paper by accident?
you're being fucking weird and i don't like it. text me when you're not being the after picture on a poster for rehab
I think all the stress in my life right now can be directly correlated with never winning a game of Bop It as a child.
Trimming my pubes at 1 AM, drunk, listening to Stevie Ray Vaughn. What has become of me.
Jesus christ stop updating me about every aspect of your life.
I did a kegel this morning to determine if I had been penetrated during last night's blackout. Nope.
I came to the conclusion that Tinder and having the day off are not good for my relationship.
No no this isn't that fun. I'm alone drinking wine and me and the dogs ran out of things to talk about around 9 am.
He flew in from NY last night. We had sex in the back of my car in the airport parking lot and then he fed me fresh Babka (from Breads Bakery) as I drove him home. I can't decide if I love him or Babka more.
You know it's a good night when the word slut is imprinted on your ass and your hands smell like lube.
I ended up snorting coke while wearing a Bavarian dress and I feel like I need to reevaluate my life
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