You know the guy who poops at a party and then leaves and you go in, do your business, and come out and there are girls outside that think you pooped and no one talks to you? I'm the guy who poops before you go in, because I'm in a relationship and I hate you.
Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
you took a scissor and started screaming "I WANNA KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE BALD"
I am so getting Plan B when we get home. Not getting knocked up by a dude with a hair piece.
Out of ice. Vodka+club soda+cut up lime popscicle=I'm an alcoholic genius.
I just threw up in the bathroom next to the zebra exhibit. The kids don't know I skipped a beat. Best nanny, ever.
I hope in my next life I'm a sterile trophy wife. With a husband who showers me in wealth and gifts but can't get a hard on. Do you think my karma is good enough for that?
we've decided whoever is stupid enough to use the condom that's tacked to the wall deserves to get pregnant.
He kicked in the door just as I climbed on top of him...and stood there. I felt like I was in a porn. It was invigorating.
Awk. Hanging with her while messaging her ex about sex injuries he gave me
Just had my first american. He tasted like freedom.
He really only has clothes, like 4 boogie boards, and a bong here.
I need to immerse myself in a tub of peroxide to kill whatever traces of him are on me.
I think all the guys I've fucked in my life would get along perfectly. They'd probably form an orchestra and travel the fucking world. That gives me the slightest feeling of consistency in life which is great.
Also I just had a pointless meeting and the only thing I accomplished were my kegals
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