they just dont make restraining orders like they used to.
his receeding hairline makes running into him so much less awkward. almost enjoyable actualy
Besides, I'm not in my 30's. I'm still allowed to drink wine from a bag.
i would think by now you'd realize that my penis does whatever the fuck it wants and i have no control over the situation
I feel as though the word "tired" has become synonymous with "too high to manage the stairs" lately
the problem with having sex for lunch when its 98 degrees outside is that I can't tell if its sweat or semen running down my leg as I walk back in the office
I feel like he's only with me because no one else would blow him.
Give us adventure or give us cock. Or cocktails.
I hate him and his pretentious your-sleeping-in-the-wet-spot look.
I have 3 texts in my phone that say "Thanks King Tyler". I think I've successfully drank myself into a monarchy.
I don't like him near enough to give up day drinking AND my prostitute costume
Yet he continued to eat cereal out of the glove compartment in my car.
He drives a tundra! Of course I fucked him. Im just saying eventually im going to need help moving and he has a nice truck. Its like thank you for later on
I have bits of ceiling fan all over now
I'm sad about how hungover I'm gonna feel tomorrow.
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