I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
I'm timing the release of my poops to the sound of the machine gun from the video game he's playing in the living room.
I'm at the store buying plan b and vodka
the cocktail of hope
Don't bite the hand that gives you multiple orgasms
separated laundry into 'got laid' and 'didn't get laid' piles.
He told me he wouldn't do any drunk sluts but me. I guess that's sort of a compliment...?
You seemed more interested in the queso dip than you were in the hand job
at least you got your priorties in line. new years first, than the baby.
Well i'm not entirely sure considering he gave my vagina an early valentine's day card that said "you're purrfect."
I'm about to start putting my tampons in the microwave for a few seconds these plastics applicators and this weather don't mix
i seriously haven't spoken to him since i drunk dialed him and told him i loved his beard
My vagina feels like it's been kissed by angels.
I told the bartender that his red, white and blue shots were terrible and tasted like Thomas Jefferson's balls.
At the funeral we'll say nice things, like "She was delightfully extreme, psychotically wonderful, and could probably drink all you fuckers under the table."
That's literally the perfect eulogy
Hiking for a first date sounded like a good idea in theory because there was absolutely no possibility of me blacking out. In practice, I'd rather black out than go through what I just went through.
Randomize
