Saw a Delta Zeta recruitment poster today. On it, somebody added, "All you need is your daddy's credit card and a lack of self-respect."
please don't text me until you can spell three letter words again.
I just got a mental picture of us having sex in a trash can.
This is your liver's 7:15 wake up call. Mandatory margarita popsicles after work today. Rule #71: no excuses, play like a champ!
It's now 8:05 on a Wednesday night and I'm already going home with my bra in my purse.
ALso, saw an adorable man walking an adorable dog with his adorable kid.
And yes, that last sentence is biased because my ovaries started screaming
You went through my pantry and left one of everything in the box. One cracker. One cheesit. One piece of cereal. I really fucking hate you.
I will not be held responsible for my vagina's poor judgment.
I doubt she'll sponsor it. You know alcohol and fireworks don't mix, right?
It's okay. We're not going to soak the fireworks in alcohol. The alcohol is for drinking.
I need someone to play with my boobs. Even platonically. I just need a good groping
I am a delicate flower. A fucked up, drunk, horny, pants pissing, delicate little flower.
Even his sexts are poetic. He said breasts instead of tits so I'm gonna lock this shit down asap
We fucked. Had a political debate. I won. So I sat on his face.
Could someone explain to me why there were 40 individually wrapped burritos in the fridge when I woke up this morning?
He wants to play improv games now whenever he gets drunk. Sometimes I just do not have the energy for that kind of a thing
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