apparently my drunken alterego is a lazyeyed bisexual.
I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
After throwing up in a tequila bottle on my nightstand (still not sure how she did that) she asked if she could slip into something more comfortable.
Sorry for trying to give you my dresser last night. Are any of the drawers still in your car?
And then. You beer bonged 3 tall boys. In a row. Fell into some kids lap. And pulled down my shirt trying to get up. Thank you for that. I got laid
I will not be a drunk bitch. I will not be a drunk bitch. Chanting this until it's second nature.
Drinking in moderation can be fun. Drinking in moderation can be fun. Chanting this until it becomes true.
When people ask about my bruises, I'm just going to say it was a doorknob. Or possibly a group of doorknobs. Angry doorknobs.
Pro: she asked me to be a bridesmaid. Con: i only have about nine months to get over a phobia of midget strippers.
Besides. I don't even really like sex because it feels great. I like it because for thirty minutes I own that guys ass.
Btw. U, me, male strippers, beer. Gonna happen. We could totally get TNT from like u know TNT places
At this point in job hunting, I'm willing to become a leather daddy if it means some sort of income.
please don't forget about the bread in the toilet i am absolutely not dealing with that
Just got an exam care package consisting of only adderall wrapped in money. Score onr for mom.
I just saw a guy in a zippo shirt buy 2 gallons of fire starter fluid and then proceed to smoke a cigarette. I feel like hes got some big plans for his tuesday.
im having flashbacks to my time in a waffle cult composed of 9 to 14 year olds
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