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My neighbors are pissed that I called them white trash, which I don't get because I totally said it in an endearing tone and everything.
Great news! I've learned that it's definitely not Twitter that's kept me from having a dating life.
Real life kicking me in the ass so I'll be back in a few days. Be prepared to be fucked senseless when I return. I'll star-fuck you, too.
I'm not even smart enough to pretend I'm sexy on the fucking internet.
When men check out my midsection instead of my ass, that means they're picturing me carrying their baby, right?
I got kicked out of a card game for cheating. These brats take Go Fish a little too seriously.
I don't know what a spirit animal is, but by the looks of things, I might have eaten mine. And yours, too.
If you're smart enough to take the Ambien when you go to sleep instead of after four hours of tossing and turning, fuck right on off.
If it weren't for my cats throwing up every five minutes, my knees would never experience carpet burn.
It's so strange how your car horn somehow controls my middle finger.
If my eyelashes could grow at even half the speed that my nose hairs do, I'd probably have a boyfriend.
That's enough, pregnant women. We all know that you got laid this year, so you can stop showing it off.
If you could watch my life backwards, you'd see a Jenny Craig success story.
I want to do a good vagina tweet, but someone is going to have to tell me what the fuck it's purpose is first.