I don't know what's more sad: The fact that he fingered the side of my leg, or the fact that the side of my leg feels like a vagina.
I made the bartender pinky promise me there was still vodka in my drinks.
All I remember is holding on to the elevator asking it politely to stop spinning
I just dropped macaroni right down my cleavage. For the sake of our future, I'm really banking on this being a turn on for you.
The fact that both my ribs are severely bruised from shoving flasks in my bra might be a validation of my mothers alcoholic accusation
I'm pretty sure when you walk down Broadway and can pick out people you've slept with.. It might be a problem. I'm leaving for rehab tomorrow.
well, obviously he didn't fuck me for my strong moral fiber.
Just had a tranny complement my outfit. Looks like I'll have to change before we go out.
Tried making out with pop rocks in my mouth. That shit is magical.
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
He'll only communicate through snapchat with pictures of him holding his cat or his dick. Bit of Russian roulette opening them in public but I did it anyway.
fell down stairs ended up in underground bar now im dancing with trannies and best night of my life. lines of coke
we should start a freak-out-the-cashier-contest. I just bought JerseyShore Season2, red high heels, and nipple soothing pads
Terrible idea I love it
I also don't hate being called a giant sack of cheese. Is that weird?
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