You need to stop texting me at SEVEN in the morning. It wakes my one night stands up and makes for the awkward talk way too early.
ahh summer, the season during which the prefix for every verb is "get drunk and"
Whatever, its basically a crime against humanity to miss an andre power hour so she'll get what's coming to her.
high. he's playing 'oops i did it again' on the ukelele. is this real life?
I love my roommate; her alcohol problem, her proclivity for passing out on the living room couch, and her fucking awesome size d tits that can never remain clothed. Craigslist jackpot.
Today might be the day that I legitimately throw up in my saxophone.
She insisted on fucking on the futon mattress on the floor, answered the phone call from her boyfriend who was on his way to pick her up, and then had the audacity to ask if I was clean
you started putting condoms on anything with a point, then you were yelling at the lamp for using your last condom...
Well, I'm off to go seduce a gay man. In 10 years when I'm 300 pounds, sitting in a mumu surrounded by my 500 cats, remind me of this text. That way I can be like "ohhh THERE'S where I went wrong!!"
When he texted me, I got a little wet. Until he asked me to get Jimmy Johns before I got to his house.
That was so not worth putting pants on for.
Mom and I shoplifted today. Her idea.
Retirement sounds fun.
Considering all of my stomach contents ended up in my center console, I'm a bit peckish.
The poop emoji wasn't even in my recents. Does that mean I'm growing up?
Okay but look at his jawline. I NEED TO RIDE IT.
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