That bitch is like a bad destiny's child song.
He's like the fucking Houdini of bras. Not only did I not feel him take it off I didn't find it until two days later.
there is a baby dancing on the table amidst the smoke of multiple cigarettes. i want to trade lives with that baby.
I feel like I need to get rid of the black eyeliner, glitter, and tequila breath before I to that world poverty conference..
Dude. I kneed him in the face and gave him a black eye. It's like a constant reminder of our hookup. I feel like herpes. I never go away...
Does having a sippy cup full of wine, at an outlet mall, qualify you as 'having a problem'?
My contribution to the dinner party was a bottle of vodka and a bag of uncooked potatoes. I felt like a Russian serf.
Just walk of shamed past a 5 year old on my way out of my booty call. He waved at me. Is this the single life I've been missing?
plus there's no nice way to tell a guy you physically hate the shape of their cock.
he has a party story that rivals our "PTSD- soldier-with-a-knife" party story. I'm pretty sure this is part of some prophecy.
Move ovrr Titanoc and all you others. Heres the real tale of woe. This ladys failed search for boozdy goodnezs.
someone in the elevator just told me i looked like a struggle but i smell very pretty..
this place is dumb. no one understands my Sunday morning alcoholism here.
I fit in backpacks. BOOM HERE I AM! Like a stripper from a cake.
I've been rehabbing my soul with cheese and wine lately
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