Apparently Chef Boyardee is the only guy I'm taking home tonight.
i have absolutely no control over my now miserable and whore-ish lifestyle.
I think the universe is against us being together. Or maybe it's just god's way of telling me there is a bigger dick out there for me.
So am I a slut for not remembering his name after sex last night or not recognizing him in the cafe today after he told me who he was?
Only you would get a date out of getting hit by a car
You were laying in bed whispering and crying to the half eaten burrito saying "why am I shitting so much" and "what did I do to deserve this"
The last text I sent him was about nachos. Frankly, if he can't respond positively to that he can fuck off...
You slammed your face into the toilet and declared you were moving your bed into the bathroom in the morning. Also, you insisted on crawling everywhere because feet are "overrated."
Somehow ended up home, probably had something to do with the makeshift ladder from my second story window. Now headed to church, still drunk, and still fighting back the vomit of a thousand different alcohols. Successful night.
I woke up in confetti... confetti and shame
the reason i can drink whatever i want and you have a limit is because whiskey will never make my pussy not work
It was awful. He had a wife
And now you've had a year of virgin penance. Absolve yourself.
fuck you I'm eating salad I can't be drunk.
who are you talking about my vagina to?!
It's OK, I woke up in a drag queen's bed last weekend. It took me forever to get the glitter out of my cleavage.
Randomize
