My mom just found some of our lube mixed in with my box of pots and pans. I hate moving home.
You should probably wake up already as I have yet another story for you. Teaser? Blood from knife wound. Tequila. Guitar hero. Kitchen counter. Lawyer.
My last google search last night was 'vodka swimming pool'.
He talks to me in this sweet I know you might be pregnant voice.
This is the first time since last march I'm gonna be going to a class for more reasons than wanting to bone the girl sitting next to me.
Then he told me he was proud of me for remembering that i blew him that night.. Maybe my drinking is getting out of hand.
I woke up this morning and the search history on my phone says: "What is this castle in front of my house?"
I texted him 3 days ago he said he was pre gaming for the Super Bowl today he just text" gtomajg kaka hee 48!!!"
I literally just rubbed my stomach and told my liver to "hang in there baby"
That's like doing a cinnamon challenge in my vag - but more painful.
I may have been mad at the Supreme Court/patriarchy and tried to hate fuck myself.
I need to be put in a corner surrounded by pamphlets of stds and babies
"Are we not going to talk about how you got so drunk that you swallowed someone's pet gold fish, whole?"
All I remember thinking is, why the fuck are there martians on the ceiling? And they were riding fruit. Like strawberries and shit.
She was shaving her legs in the neighbors pool when we found her.
Where'd she get the razor?
Not the point.
Randomize
