you kept naming everything at the party...like "boy i'm going to make out with" and "table i'm going to dance on later"
I know. They started calling me The Incident. The hotel maids, that is.
Like my mouth was on his pelvis connected to his balls that's how far it was
On my way back to his place to see his "art". Why am I sure this is going to be nothing more than his dick in a box?
Curse you and your alcoholic milkshakes.
You're welcome.
drinking ice water after you brush your teeth, is like Antarctica blowing a load into your mouth.
I just watch that 70s show all day and blaze whenever they do. It's nice being part of the circle
think of it as grooming, as if he is my Kate Middleton and I'm grooming him to be a presentable princess
Stop calling dibs on everything with a vagina you jackass.
That should be the title of my autobiography.
I just need to stop hanging out with girls who drink wine coolers.
I'm at a restaurant. I am NOT about to discuss my asshole over the phone.
just reached the point where my breast implants paid from themselves in free drinks.
I just let my boss bend me over his desk and spank me. I think that is some sort of American dream.
the bright side of moving is at least my Tinder options will refresh
I’m good. I learned that a guy ate the mushrooms that were growing out of his toilet, so there’s that.
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