The Sunday morning “I fucked up” text to your big. TSM.

“I wasn’t talking shit. The things I said were true.” TSM.

I need boards within my boards to get my Pinterest account even more organized. TSM.

The “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry” cry. TSM.

I hate people that aren’t us. TSM.

“Bitch, touch my Martha Stewart glitter again and I WILL burn you with the curling iron.” TSM.

The kitchen always smells like cookies and Clorox. TSM.

Big turning 21 makes me 21 by association. TSM.