What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
This can't be good. I've realized that I weigh less in the morning after I have had a blackout drunk night than when I work out and eat healthy.
Whoa. I woke up to 10 new text messages. All about bacon.
She never called back. Financed a fleshlight.
She was so wet my fingers were literally pruney when I got done with her
I couldn't be mad. She was crying because she fell bare ass into the rose bush trying to pee. So I held her up mid-stream and she peed on my feet. No big
Its official. I've reentered slutty territory. I was a condom away from having sex in a childs playhouse at a park. Oh and I lost my car keys.
Whales. Broccoli little trees giant. Magic in cat form. I want my loco and juice. Black in shower. Brb remember life.
oh yeah, there may or may not be a large boa loose in the house when you get home.
I have random bruises including my spine and visible bite marks on my neck. Thanksgiving car sex accomplished.
....I feel like you are deciding whether or not I'm good enough for you based on what I ordered from Chipotle.
Actually, I take that back. You can only have it if I'm allowed to French braid the mullet.
I need to buy fuckboy repellant for whenever I think it's a good idea to meet boys I found in tinder
Your mankini haunted my dreams.
I’m sorry I got high and yelled about the patriarchy.
Randomize
