Sitting next to a retarded hot married man on the plane, I got 6.5 hrs to homewreck this shit.
One of us needs to be functional tomorrow and it won't be me. I'm drinking liquor out of a fishbowl.
now that im off birth control, the world is a much scarier place
he asked my vagina if she was excited to meet Leonard. LEONARD. His fuckin penis is named Leonard.
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There was a staple in my grits at waffle house last night. My knees are bruised as hell. And I puked pink all over my bathroom. Gooood night.
pretty sure I called you last night to sing Hebrew to you.
I honestly can't remember your justification for putting peanut butter on your cell phone.
Here's my first problem: I'm drunk
Like I feel like I use my high IQ for the wrong things
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"Where are you? Where are my keys? What is this guys name again? Why am I wearing two pairs of your pants?"
I just wish he'd leave so I can vomit in peace.
At this point, I'd date an ax murderer. So long as he doesn't cry all the time, have ED, or leave me with his unspayed cat. My list of requirements is becoming increasingly specific.
Well, I was asked to leave the Waffle House for "being to physical" so I think that option is off the table
My boobs look fucktastic, I have a booty call on Sunday and a dick photo on my phone. Life is grand!
He dicked me, fed me creme brulee, and didn’t make a big deal out of me causing a flood to come outta my vagina
Marry him NOW
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