I'm single ladies-ing it in my kitchen alone. after I just made an intense new breakup cd and before I drown my sorrows by marinating alone in my jacuzzi later. I cant tell if this is a new low or a new high
I haven't worn deodorant in like three days and have been laying around in my underwear listening to music and drinking. I think i've made my own Bonnaroo in my apartment.
You know how I know he's a virgin? He's wearing transition lenses.
Just mixed Baileys and yoohoo. I feel like an alchoholic 2nd grader.
Dude... You bled on his hand... At this point it doesn't matter that you called him your exes name, seriously.
The guy that just projectile vomited over the balcony is now going down to find the pill he just puked up. He said he wasn't about to waste $15.
I'm skipping the 'hey, how are you, I have to pick up something pointless at your apartment' excuse and just telling you I'm coming over to fuck.
I have your car and your sandals. My shoes are somewhere under the puke couch. Safari time.
Who are these men, what are we doing here, how is this helping us toward our goals of sex and pasta? Things to consider.
At what point lastnight did a lens fall out of my glasses and nobody tell me?
Boss out of town. Had 2 beers for lunch, a long walk and a bowl...and then in he comes. Blamed obvious intoxication on my pain meds. Back at the bar. This is one of those bad judgement days.
My breasts were aching with rage.
These last 48 hours have just been about deleting my most recent snap story
he's like the highest ranking tongue wizard i know.
I mean...if Marco gets pregnant, it is either the spawn of Satan or the second coming of Christ (neither of which I want in my life). So let's just hope that he doesn't grow a womb and that we don't have to consider either option.
Randomize
