So how Liz Lemon is this? I bring a boy home, we get in bed, and I realize there's a lean pocket wrapper in the sheets.
They should make a Rosetta Stone that allows men to understand what the fuck women are actually trying to say.
When I opened my laptop there was a half eaten little debbie oatmeal cream pie inside.
Let me just say....i'm sorry about setting your carpet on fire. I had no idea that the paper towel would burn that quickly.
He whinnies like a horse when he's cumming. I wish I would have known this before we got into a relationship.
I have got to stop making out with redheads. I need to sign my life over to my dad like Britney Spears.
I woke up to the sound of gentle rain, only to realize I was laying under a urine trough in the men's restroom. Fuck you, bourbon. Fuck you.
I totally just stopped for a booty call on the way to my parents for easter....good friday is an understatement
I was giving this guy head and he stopped me to look me in the eyes and say "you have a gift"
I hate him. I fucked every one of his friends AND his fat brother and he still won't break up with me.
View of Vancouver Bay is obscured though the greasy hand prints from fucking against the window. Tip maid well.
At one point, the bartender wrote out the words "please kill me" on some receipt paper and slid it across the bar to me.
I trusted a fart in Toronto. NEVER TRUST A FART IN TORONTO.
I really need to stop having sex.. I haven't been able to get a brush through the back of my hair for a good week and a half
I found half a candy bar in my bra today... Melted to my nipple. What a mess. It was still good though.
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