So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
I learned much from the teen babysitter: I can light a cigarette in a microwave.
Making the executive decision for drunk you to not sleep in the lofted bed that has no ladder
He cut you off when you said Paula Dean was in your soul...He kicked you out when "Paula" started eating random peoples food
I ended up on the roof were calling it a tie
Oh man. Realized I was high when I realized how long I'd been watching Roseanne
She left a blanket, pillow, a glass of water, and two advils in the bathroom for me. It's like she knew. Best room mate ever.
He just snapchatted me a picture of his cock. The angle makes it look like a freakin skyscraper. Thinking of photoshopping a little monkey on it.
Because nothing screams stable like yelling at a guy in a bar because last time you hooked up he stole your underwear.
I feel like I don't show you my boobs enough. And you deserve to see them like all the time
Look I'm really high right now, and if I were to leave this house, it would be for the sole purpose of getting an ice cream sandwich. So can you please just do it.
As much as my throat was opened up this weekend, you'd think I wouldn't nearly choke on a damn almond.
I feel like too many of my sentences start of with "Hey, fuckface!"
Steven and I talked about running for office again today. It's fucked that my 3 dream jobs are marijuana bakery owner, bar owner, and president.
My parents are coming to visit the 28th. How bad is it that I put a reminder in my phone to "hide sex toys"?
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