at some point to night u and I have a 'meeting' too...(1-737): I hope so
I seem to have left my pride at pride
I woke up with a crunchy, pink Pepto streak through my hair, no recollection of the last 6 hours of my night and the feeling that all the hotel's staff knew me on a first name basis.
Why am I getting the stink eye from these people? They're acting like BYOB isn't kosher in a laundromat.
My Grampa even called her out for being a cock block at the bar...it was that serious
Home safe. Psyche shattered. Still rolling. In love with the morrocan rug in the living room.
I puked right in front of him after winning beer olympics and he still hooked up with me. My life is so easy.
Was this before or after he told that homeless man outside the bar about his past sexual experiences?
I just totok an inventory of my purse: 1 apple, 1 pair of underwear, 7 condoms, $18 in ones, a check with "for sexual healing" in the subject line, and a 4 oz bottle of wine.
Oh! and a letter from a judge saying I got an interview. Cause that balances it out.
I gave the bathroom attendant $5 last night for turning the sink on for me. What. The. Fuck.
A check for $9 that I used to buy six boxes of Girl Scout cookies bounced. I think I've hit a new low.
I love how fuckboys immediately become cultured when I tell them I’m an artist.
you know you're doing something right when your drug dealer insists on hugging you before you leave.
So I have now fucked both my roommates...This is why I can’t live with men.
Is texting an old booty call with "can you still get your ankles behind your ears?" an appropriate way to reemerge into the singles scene???
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