I swear I have "I love assholes" written on my forehead with ink that only guys can see.
BEES IN MY FUCKING PANTS. HELP.
As punishment for throwing up on my car, I am holding your phone hostage until the morning. You can read this message after I drop it off.
I would say I'm the man in the relationship but I'm cuddled on the couch eating cake mix and water.
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She needs sedatives and a leash
No one is allowed to go to bed until all bottles are finished, I don't want to feel my face tongiht. Do you understand?
I don't know what to think. Also, I decided to take a bath...sorry in advance if I flood the bathroom.
Apparently we stole a dog last night. I woke up and it was just staring at me. But we fed it left over KFC for breakfast so it's cool.
If I don't quit picking up guys when I'm drunk, I'm going to need a vagina transplant.
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I'm at the nutcracker high as shit. It's so beautiful. I cried.
Opened my notebook to coke all over the pages. So, if that's any indication on how this weekend went.
There are far too many naked dudes in your apartment, and they aren't even watching porn. I mean seriously, they've got the Lion King on.
I don't know how a coffee date turned into road head. But hey
Can I just go naked and covered in glitter?
Does fucking him in the back of the car with the sun roof retracted count as star gazing?
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