Tell me why I go to the dollar store for nail polish remover and a ghetto black dude trys to hit on me in the parking lot, then he gets in line behind me with a dousche bag literally and that is his only purchase.
woke up rolled in a yoga mat listening to enya. I'm never going back to Oregon ever again.
Ignoring the crisis im in. Sitting in the front yard in a kiddie pool. Wearing arm floaties, fins and a snorkel. Waiting for a hot guy to walk by.
They're pole dancing on a handicap sign post.
The moral of the story is do not hire me because everything will end up smelling like pickles and I will not sufficiently clean it up.
I no longer see him as a simple set of male genitalia attached to a very sexy body. The title "trophy fuck" seems wrong. Damn.
Our 450 pound cab driver smells like McDonalds and sunblock with a touch of vodka. Correction I smell like vodka.
Totally shot down my boss for sex today. Approaching this weekend with a clear conscience and an untouched vagina.
OK BUT WHO THE FUCK FORGTS A LIVE CHICKEN IN MY HOUSE
My vagina is officially offended.
you are the only girl i know that would bring a plate of cookies to a hook up. but they were awesome. thanks. next time cupcakes?
Maybe the "i killed someone" and "tequila makes my clothes come off" comments freaked him out.
I'm like the total package- I don't want a relationship and I have daddy issues. What more could he want?
If I could tell my younger self three things it would be: 1. Smoke a lot more weed 2. Have a lot more sex 3. Own a good set of pots and pans
My boyfriend's mom is the manager of Wendy's. The same one I took a pregnancy test in.
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