Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
I would have added her but her profile pic was piece of pie
he just asked if we wanted to go to an arts and crats club with him tomorrow. every day it becomes harder for me to defend his sexuality
Todays life lesson brought to you by last nights half pitchers of cheap sangria: you'll never get the stain or the SMELL of sangria vomit out of your bedroom carpet.
Its not that I'm getting free haircuts... Its just that she is paying for sex with haircuts...
I no longer see him as a simple set of male genitalia attached to a very sexy body. The title "trophy fuck" seems wrong. Damn.
I sat down next to him and my bra just unhooked itself
barely 48 hours and I've done the dirty on both of my roommates beds before they've even slept in them
The walk home lasted longer than the sex. He lives in the flat above the bar.
I feel like David Hasselhoff when he's drunk eating that cheeseburger and crying. But with cheesecake.
He must've been a bear in a previous life. My nipple is bleeding. Shit's sensitive.
so i may or may not have just had sex on the stage of the lecture hall....
its as if im in a choose your own adventure book. except im not the reader and someone else is choosing my fate...one awesome decision at a time.
My Dachshund waddled into the room carrying a rolled-up pad in her mouth with period blood. This day is clearly off to a good start.
the person she was housesitting for had a christmas card from charlie sheen on the fridge so we fucked on the couch and just slept in the bed
Randomize
