Our house smells like week old pizza, beer cans, cigarettes, and depressing career tracks....get lysol.
Made out with some random "plus sized" young lady. She let me kiss her boobies. It was like I was 6 months old again.
I cant go down on him yet. All ive had to eat is olives and percocet. semen would only add to tomorow mornings discomfort.
We're so high we're finding things in the room to build a submarine with. So far we have two cardboard boxes, a piece of wood, puffy paint, and an empty bottle to use as a periscope.
I can't help but be optimistic. I'm like a ball of slutty sunshine.
hey, this is the ginger girl from the party...i've thought about it and I wanna join the american girl drinking team
When are you not under some influence?
Since last Tuesday...yesterday.
This football player keeps talking about his drunk dad. I think he may start crying. Does this deserve a roll tide?
perfect. if all else fails remind him how anxious he is. talk real fast and induce a panic attack that only I can remedy with xanax.
You did it first. I was merely expressing my support for you, by pressing my testicles against a window.
There was a time I was reining queen of Sunday funday... And at that same time I also weighed 20 pounds more, had the morale of a spearmint rhino stripper, and woke up most mornings asking more questions than fucking Barbara Walters. I think I just wrote my own epitaph.
I think we r still a few steps from ex sex. In fact, that's never going to happen. I'm just saying on the seething-chemical-fire-of-emotional-distress-to-post -relationship-intercourse scale, I'm closer to fucking than throttling. Progress is fun.
Good, I don't think Coke dipped ring pops hold up in the mail anyway.
1) break up with him. 2) feel bad. 3) fuck some other guy. 4) feel better. Boom! Life plan. You're welcome.
You followed me up the stairs while i was throwing up yelling "projectile! projectile! projectile!"
Randomize
