i don't want a singing card. it disturbs my hangover. give me a pack of cigs taped to a bottle of wine and fuck me without a condom. happy vday baby.
Can you come over to my place and make up for the crap you called sex yesterday?
Good morning to you
Shame should no longer be a word in your vocabulary.
he said something along the lines of "fish can smell fear"
He was puking up tons. He aimed his face inside his coat. Not a drop in my car. Then he thanked me for the ride.
It's that time of the week again where I begin to ponder life's great questions like, "What will my pathetic excuse for a future look like?" and "Why tacos?"
I'm reffing a fight in Fight Club I don't even know what I'm doing
You pulled out a fucking recorder and started playing along with all the songs on your playlist and refused to hit the j
The salesman at the smoke shop just told me my hair is glorious...
I'm just trying to absorb as much of the fluids from the carpet as I can.
I don't remember where I was but I remembered that I hated everyone there
He fucked me so well and hard that the couch slid into the Christmas tree. I had to pull branches out of my hair.
A million fucking miles away, and the sun still manages to fuck my hungover mornings up.
Oh man. I threw up in the first cab. Got kicked out. Roamed somewhere for awhile. Fell asleep in the back if the second cab. Woke up in my underwear on the living room floor with a frozen pizza (thawed) laying next to me
I showed up drunk and covered in glitter, smelling like stale booze and dirty stripper and my younger brother gave thanks his life wasn’t a shitshow like mine
That’s how my thanksgiving went
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