this is a mass text: i just made a grilled cheese with an iron and pasta with the coffeemaker in the hotel room. bow before your new god.
i make up for being a shitty girlfriend by being amazing in bed.
just because you are in college doesnt mean its okay to pregame easter mass.
so when we were booking the hotel and plane tickets for vegas we reserved a chapel for someone, it's inevitable.
If I die tonight. Just know that chicken I made fuckin ruled. Recipe: Chicken with a shitload oF spice
the bar tender told me i could keep an air matress in the backroom.
I WALKED myself out of breath. And I'm lost I'm a Tim Hortons parking lot. That's how hungover I am.
I will fuck him senseless, no need for a priest.
I only have one eye to read your texts because I just stabbed one out after reading that last text.
When did it become appropriate to call your mother the morning after? While still naked in bed? WHEN?!
you put your hands over the taxi driver's eyes and shouted GUESS THE WAY TO THE CLUB
I just totok an inventory of my purse: 1 apple, 1 pair of underwear, 7 condoms, $18 in ones, a check with "for sexual healing" in the subject line, and a 4 oz bottle of wine.
Oh! and a letter from a judge saying I got an interview. Cause that balances it out.
I'm a bit offended I got no nudies back but it's whatever
They're in the mail. Snapchats too fast. I want the suspense.
i woke up in a bed of pop tarts
WHY HAVE SO MANY THING GONE IN MY BUTT ON THIS TRIP
IF YOU DIE ON LSD YOU DIE FOR REAL
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