Hotel room at 3 am. She's 42. Stockings and heels. All because I opened with a joke about cougar hunting. We'll high-five later.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
I go to guys houses late at night, have a little fun, come back by dawn having made their life a little bit better. I am the official blow job fairy.
apparently he couldn't remember my name so he refereed to me as whats-her-boobs and everyone knew that it was me he was talking about
basically theres shrimp everywhere. splattered on the walls, in the carpet, its bad. ohh theyre never gonna get the smell out.
They have a booking log online so i can just check that instead of call
Technology: making bailing your sister out easier since 2008
The bachelorette started when I opened the door and they threw a few dozen dildos at me.
On another note, I feel like my vagina is slowly being peeled off with a rusty potato peeler.
I am the girl who goes to bed with her make-up on so that she doesn't have to fully redo it in the morning. I am obviously not ready to be a mother.
How does that even work?
His mom finally got over her shame and smoked a bowl with us. Merry Christmas to all aka me.
just reached the point where my breast implants paid from themselves in free drinks.
Turns out I tore my ACL when I fell off the mechanical bull.. Happy bday to me
She was doing drunken zumba and screaming "FUCK YOU I HAVE MY OWN STYLE!" at the TV
my grocery cart consisted of hershey bars, sour patch kids, starbursts, mayo, 4 frozen pizzas, 4 lunchables, and chips. clearly, i can't do this on my own.
I feel like I got hit by a car. But a small car, like a Beetle or a Mini or something.
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