Since you didn't call me back last night, I can only assume that in 9 months you're going to have a child that I'm going to refer to as, "Daddy's little mistake in Miami."
So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I want to get so wasted that I make middle aged irish men look like mormon girls
I was dancing barefoot on glass at one point. That really sobered me up.
I didn't think her British accent was real until I saw how fucked up her teeth were.
And there I was, sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, my fingers covered in peanut butter.
everyone at work keeps looking at me like they know I got the herp this weekend
Also: how drunk is your brother? He just left me a message as batman.
I had such a pleasant walk of shame. The sun was shining, I smiled at all the high school suckers who judged me on their way to school, and I made friends with an old guy and his dog.
I slept with someone only because he got my Simon Birch impression. It was a new low.
Dear Jesus. Send me strength to not suck cock this morning.
She text me that night and asked how the dick was and I quote my drunk self "average at best"
I never thought my selfie stick would come in handy for nudes.
I currently hiding in an upside down garbage can please come find me
woke up with 8 used magnum condoms bound together by floss around my neck, thats about all im gonna tell you.
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