I woke up this morning with "guy in polar bear j.crew boxers" written on my stomach along with a 5 digit phone number...
my quiz for the book was only 2 questions and my one answer was sorry and then a sad face
so he came in me this morning and i was like WTF DUDE. i called him Daddy until he agreed to pay the full $40 for plan B. He wants to name our Patrick because it will be a st pattys day baby. absolutely NOT.
I don't give a shit about soccer but I'm really excited about drinking at 7 in the morning
I have a scary feeling my mom might switch her goals from finding me a husband in 2012 to sending me to rehab
All i want to do is drink fuck and cry... you dont have to cater all three its more like the saddest choose your own adventure ever
I have too much respect and admiration for my dick to put it into a situation where he could possibly be killed
Logically he should not be walking around...after that fall he should be in a hospital in a medically induced coma
I definitely pole-danced a parking meter outside a party last night. The cheering was appreciated.
I still owe him the card with all the sperm paper cutouts falling out like glitter saying " sorry you can't hold your load. Better luck next time "
I may or may not have puked in the ladies room. Now I get to convince my client to go to substance abuse treatment. Oh, the irony.
A boy just offered to come over and help me clean my house. I hope you are more successful than he will be tonight.
Double check your contract and see if it says anything about sleeping with your manager
New Orleans is just like you. Dirty but beautiful and will always have a special place in my heart
ps why does my dog smell like popcorn and a dryer sheet..?
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