You were screaming at a bartender last night for not referring to you as god.
and apparently I tried to pay for beer with a tampon.
And for 6 straight hours, I laid on my bedroom floor trying to convince myself it would perfectly acceptable to pee on my own floor
I'm sick of being broke. I had vicodin and frosting for lunch.
Drinking heavily at 3pm and about to rescue a 30lb street turtle. Dont even bother attempting to rise to this level bitch
Well going home with a Ralph Lauren model helped me get over him real fuckin' quick. Would recommend it for all women going through breakups
It has been so long since I got any action that I have decided to change my vagina's name from "the chamber of judgement" to "the cave of forgotten dreams".
He's a fucking asshole. Who gives good head. And seriously I have never seen someone less committed to hair color
I've been wearing the same clothes for 3 days and they're covered in franzia
I have bruises from doing the splits on the poles, if that doesn't scream bourbon street regret then I don't know what does
No more twerking this week. I think I dislocated a boob.
So apparently having sex with your co-worker in the bathroom at the staff party can get you fired.
Honestly, I want an afternoon of mild abuse, mixed with face fucking and general molestation that turns in love making, laughter and cinnamon toast crunch naked in bed.
I impressed him by taking off my panties without removing my pants.
Lo siento on account of my penis...
Thanks for fucking the skin off my dick
It was a joint effort between my vagina my feet and your hand you can't just blame that all on me
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