Just made out with a pet sitter. His biz card says "even hamsters". Lowest point in my life.
My only options right now are Herpes, Gay, or Vanilla.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I asked about his 3 inch scar on his chest. It's from when he had to castrate a bull on the estancia. Apparently this is how good bull meat is made.
Totally just asked Dad if I needed to show the real estate guy my tits so he would let us buy the house. I've really got to work on that filtering thing.
Girls night always turns into let's seperate and get laid night.
life is no where near the amusement park it was when I was on Vicodin.
Why isn't there a sort by hair color option on Facebook? It would make stalking much easier.
I just bared my soul to you and you fell asleep. Or you're fucking your boyfriend. Either way, not cool. fuck.
I just don't know about this life anymore. Quite frankly I think I belong up there in the great blue, lounging on a cloud sippin tea with Jesus
She asked me to head butt her and after half a bottle of whiskey that seemed reasonable.
got blackout drunk at the conference and wandered around Minneapolis with a homeless person until one of the other interns found me...I think I'm ready for adulthood.
I had to sit there with his three fat aunts talking about a bunch of 50 Shades knockoff books.
I felt like a taxi, but my meter was running up minutes he would be eating me out that night.
There is a doctor sitting next to me at lunch talking about the engorged scrotum surgery he did this morning and I am about to lose my professional grown adult facade.
YOU UNCULTURED BADGER
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