I really need to stop coming home drunk and lint rolling my rabbit.
It's only 8pm and Karl already got a stripper fired.
He told me that if his bed could talk, it'd write a medical journal. Guess it's too late to worry about that now.
They said an hour before I even see a doctor...and they noticed the shots tally on my arm.
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I have bruises on the inside of my thighs from sliding down the stair case...thanks for encouraging that slut show
Let me clarify that those tears were for losing my fuck buddy and his penis, not to the fact that he decided he wanted an actual relationship with feelings.
I feel like delivery guys should know that when you order lunch for one and answer the door wearing sweatpants, there's no need to say "Happy Valentine's Day."
Only I could run tino my father in law while looking at condoms at Rite Aid. At 730 on a Thursday morning. I'm in trouble.
I'm praying that the company stray cat shows up tomorrow. I think I may have hit it while leaving Friday. Nobody will believe it was an accident after I hit the last one.
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Chipotle just hit me... I want to go sit in the corner of the shower and cry until morning.
i don't knpow whats goin on i think theyre sacrificeing me to th tequila gods
.It's like gods test of willpower against vaginal comfort
So here's a brief summary of my weekend: last night I drank four glasses of Death Punch, grabbed the toaster, said "This is mine", put it in my pants and walked out the front door.
There is a guy down by the river wearing a zebra print speedo and a sombrero, with a beer in each hand, screaming "This is America bitches!"
If by fun you mean, did I meet her cousin for the.first time and bang him, then yes it was a productive evening.
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