Someone needs to break it to my cat that she is not a security guard and my bathroom is not a VIP section.
Girls: I’d invite you in but my place is a mess
Guys: I don’t mind
Girls: Like a huge mess
Girls: Like dead bodies on fire
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[desert island diary – day 1]
4:15 pm: Got one call out of my cell phone before it died. Now I wait.
5:25 pm: That pizza is definitely free
“You know your addiction is bad when you lie and say you’re at the gym when really you’re out shopping” is the title of my autobiography.
Me: I must warn you, I’m like an animal in bed.
Her: That’s fine by me!
*burrows under the covers and falls asleep at the foot of the bed*
me: got any weekend plans?
me: gonna get chubby
me: yah me too
When someone says “No Biggie”, I reply with “not since ‘97” and immediately break down crying
H: Why do you always wear your hair in a ponytail?
Me: I can’t afford a face lift.
Of all of the profound disappointments that I have faced in my life, be they personal or professional, none is more firmly fixed in my mind, nor more likely to have caused my deeply-rooted trust issues, than the discovery at age four that Play-Doh doesn’t taste the way it smells.
I hope my neighbors follow me on Twitter cause their car’s lights are on.
Sharks just aren’t eating enough people.