There is something about listening to Patsy Cline while pooping that makes the experience so much better.
i just licked mashed potatoes off my blackberry. i'm not even ashamed to admit that to you.
Climbing onto the roof in a dress and high heeled boots was probably not the best idea, especially after all that Bacardi.
apparently the last bar didn't like my halloween costume with syringes filled with whiskey
IT WAS SO BIG. I FORGOT GOD MADE THEM LIKE THIS.
I'M ALSO PLAYING VIDEO GAMES AND THINKING ABOUT ORDERING A PJIZZA. I'M NOT SURE WHAT MY MUSTACHE WANTS.
There's cereal in my underwear. Was I in your apartment at any time last night? That's the only logical explanation for this.
These muscle relaxers obviously don't work because I'm harder than a fucking diamond.
He came back with a Butterfinger and vibrator batteries. There's no refusing him now.
After we hooked up he started to cry and called his mom and told her he wanted to marry me
well, you know. whores of a feather.
Ugh im hungover from last night, and to top it all off, I think someone jacked my laptop.
umm ya, so we found it in the oven wrapped in a pillow case this morning
i just drunk stumbled into my home... to figure out that we moved 2 weeks ago..
The married guy I've been fucking broke it off because I'm not a trump supporter and don't share his "traditional values".
Because talking after sexting is equivalent to cuddling after sex
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