this morning i woke up under the kitchen table. i went to my room and there was an inflatable whale in my bed with a banana duct taped to where its penis should be. there were trails of cheez-its around my apartment and i found $67 in the crotch of my underwear. im guessing i had a very happy birthday.
Well he's not a stripper, so we're already doing better than my last date.
He used my blackberry to make a voice recording of me orgasming, then set it as my ringtone while I was sleeping. I discovered this during a staff meeting this morning.
my shower just felt like jesus cried on me. like he shed tears just for my shower.
No, not at all. Pulling a condom out of your vag at 2pm is NOTHING like finding $10 in your winter coat. Stop trying to make me feel better.
Nothing says happy baby shower like showing up still kinda drunk from last night with an open tall boy in one hand and fries in the other.
I just got released from jail. still in my kilt. bring pants damnit. they won't understand.
pants will make it better? really?
Please tell me why your entire hallway smells like microwaved condoms.
You know what my problem is? I'm like a machine designed for the sole intention of removing the pants from damaged girls.
I wish they made people sized litter boxes.
I hope they realize that to me "collecting their mail" is synonymous with "fucking in every room in their house, and twice in the party shower."
they superglued a cigarette to my fingers...i think I need to quit smoking.
He told me I was his first American. I feel like I should've brought a flag to plant on him.
Does anyone remember last night? Because I still don't know why I now own a goldfish and a ceiling fan made of pizza?
im mourning your vaginas lack of frictional upkeep
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