My sheets look like a crime scene.
i wish i could just chop off my fat with a knife..i would rather endure that than work out
They are baked and once again have spent the last 45 mins talking about opening up a world wide business called "pickle on a stick"
Judging that there's a photo of me getting head while sitting on a graveyard tombstone.....not good.
we hotboxed my bathroom. with nine people and two dogs.
The whiskey is fighting the tequila on who wants to be the one who end my night first.
There's still flour in my hair. And I don't even want to know what the neighbors think happened infront of my house.
I woke up to the sound of gentle rain, only to realize I was laying under a urine trough in the men's restroom. Fuck you, bourbon. Fuck you.
I was just randomly reminded of the night you were wrapped up in a bed sheet carrying a full bottle of cookie dough vodka and warning neighbors of the weirdos running around
Nothing kills the mood like him going to slap my ass and he hits his balls at the same time
I found where he bartends and I guarantee you that in approximately nine months from this Friday, you will have a niece
I feel like I hate him but his dick too bomb to hate completely
The first thing I did when I got to the apartment was masturbate on the couch
I kinda forgave him after he laid next to me and rubbed my arm for four hours while I tripped balls.
just showered sitting down cuz standing seemed like too much work, thursdays need to stop making me their bitch.
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