I'm at subway, this 8 year old kid is judging my fashion sense with his dad. I want to kill myself.
It's ok, he's just 8, he's not judging you.
He just asked why I'm sitting alone. I honestly want to cry.
hey my socially awkward cousin is our designated driver for summer, we just have to put up with her wierd shit.
I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
Admittedly I was a little ambitious with some of the positions but you walked in during the worst of it.
how you manage to cockblock me from 500 miles away still baffles me.
Its 11am, im in the city in a pocahontas outfit, lost a heel and found a gold rolex in my lingerie.
Uh oh I Hage to dance yes, my feet are Whitney Houston
The walls are thin & apartments are narrow so all the bedrooms are next to each other. Our complex could compete in synchronized orgasms.
God I feel like the rain man of hangovers.
so apparently last weekend we taught the mascot how to shotgun beers. am i winning college yet?
If you enjoy dance recitals as much as I do, that's one shitty Father's Day...
I didn't think this needed to be said, but our sexts are an emoji free zone
right now I am washing the alcohol and shame off from last night
Do you remember seeing anyone put a "my other penis is a vagina" bumper sticker on my car?
So do you guys remember Danny from Tinder?
Sorry I only remember personality traits, not names.
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