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 so hungover i just sang the alphabet to see if "Z" comes after "W"
and honestly a story about how you met your future husband that DOESN'T include the words "creeped him on facebook" is really not a story worth sharing
i feel like our whole relationship was one big acid trip
he kept doing his monologue, "if a vagina could talk."
At least I tried to be smart when I brought the alarm clock into the bathroom just in case I fell asleep.
Mystery solved: The table is broken because I had sex on it last night.
Please save me from this creative non fiction class. I just wrote a paper about how I spend unhealthy amounts of time with my cat.
I spend unhealthy amounts of time watching RuPaul's Drag Race.
I referred to the cat as amicable.
After seeing all of the pics during the trial, all I could think was "her vagina doesn't look THAT dangerous"
Found an old burrito under my bed
You are a sick fuck
i meant to type that i went to that party for shits and giggles, but my phone corrected me and said for shots and goggles...either one works
you know that feeling on acid where you think the world stops just to fuck with you? That's what it felt like.
No apologies necessary. Just give me sex and Pop Tarts, and we'll call it even.
I got back from work this morning after working the night shift to find an NFL player scaling the side of our apartment...from your window. He just took sneaking out to all new level. Care to explain?
I think that about sums it up, actually.
Sexting just isn't as much fun once you learn how bad he is in bed...
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