Archive for December, 2009
I can’t wait for my Xanax-Smirnoff induced strangers off of Craigslist filled fuckfest.
let Billy Corgan die so he can stop ruining the Pumpkins and making me ashamed of my SP tattoos.
Amen.
Don’t you hate when you have no blogging material?
My husband has scratches on his back that are not from me.
Next time one of you little bitches parks in back of my car so I can’t pull out for 20 minutes and you look at me like you aren’t doing a damn thing wrong while your wolfing down chocolate covered pretzels, I swear to God that I will pull out a tire iron and shove it so far up your cunt that your uterus will come out of your mouth, and I will burn your face off with battery acid.
