I don't know if it's her mysterious past or atrocious grammar, but I think I'm in love.
My therapist says she wants to work on my 'trust issues'. I think she's found the cash cow within.
She's making her own pesto again. Cooking spaghetti in the microwave and "frying" vegetables in the toaster oven. All this while wearing the yellow rubber gloves and saying that the pesto has feelings like a real person. Im terrified.
You kept screaming how great you were at drawing poptarts and you insisted on drawing them all over my forearm
I have your car and your sandals. My shoes are somewhere under the puke couch. Safari time.
Are you complaining because you're getting too much sex to find the time to masturbate?
Well, when you say it like that it sounds silly.
It's like the sisterhood of the traveling vaginas over here
you know you've had too much sex when your vagina hurts when you laugh
Pants off. Spirits lifted.
Going through Bojangles drive thru chanting "KFC" hammered at 8:00 was the highlight.
I'm just more comfortable with the bondage
I have a few Facebook friends I only keep around for quality control purposes on Tinder
You know how last week before we left I was drinking outta that blue cup and I left it sitting across the road. Well, it hadn't moved and my family just found it, brought it inside and cleaned it. I think this cup is my soulmate.
All our friends are getting married, and I'm the dateless guy bringing molly to their weddings.
If I say I hate myself for it does it make it any better?
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