I don't know what kind of drugs you were on last night but you kept trying to highlight my face because you said I was important
she's using the space heater to try to heat up a pop-tart...
Well, let me tell you, it was the most vivid sex dream I've ever had. More so than the Paris Hilton one I had in 05. And about as weird.
I was crying hysterically and you wouldn't stop petting my ear and shushing me every time I tried to say something.
We still need to grow old, buy a house, and drink 40's while wearing old people sunglasses, staring at the young studs mowing our lawn.
Here's my first problem: I'm drunk
You woke me up at 2 am to tell me I could pee in a golf club if I wanted to.
Don't act like you're not jealous that I disappeared into the closet to blow my husband. Marriage = all the cock I want.
I'm curious as to what my outfit choices drunk me made for this weekend.
Sorry you felt insulted last night let me rub your butt in remorse
I should get an "I gave blood today" type of sticker, but instead it would say "I went balls deep today"
Apparently I was telling them, "I AM A STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN AND I DON'T NEED YOU TO HOLD MY HAIR," and I pulled my hair back and puked.
Status: mom bitching about grandma not shutting the fuck up, while not shutting the fuck up. Dear Jesus give me strength or more bourbon.
I just ate apple sauce in my underwear. This isn't 30. This is 3.
With each thrust he'd whisper "like a ninja." Should I be flattered or appalled?
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