before i could say "i'm not that kind of girl", i was.
the only reason why im excited to go home for break is to finally eat real fucking food and have normal bowel movements.
the bar told me i would have to take an hour break so they could wash the shot glasses
i'm not accepting baked goods from anyone for awhile. especially after the stalker pie.
If we break up, I want weekend visitations with your penis.
The rest of us are chipping in to soundproof your bedroom. This is getting ridiculous.
I miss the time when Mondays weren't the new Thursdays. I can't drink like my 17 year old self anymore.
Ya I know. She's self aware though, like the terminator. Which is the best kind of crazy
I want to throw pennies on her stage, or just ripping up a dollor bill and throw them one at a time.
I went down on her on the dining room table. That should count for something.
Isis wins if we don't have the loudest, kinkiest sex in every part of my house tomorrow
I don't care if his family has ties to the mafia, you go over there, ride his dick until it breaks off, put his dick back on, and keep on riding. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Thanks for the support, sis.
Well I want to be mistreated and called a slut and finger banged
But I guess hugs would be nice
The last thing I remember is trying to chug the rest of the everclear, running through a fence, and laying down in the snow. I hurt.
I’m going down on him like an Oompah Loompah on roller skates.
That makes no sense, but good luck
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