my phone vibrated itself into my puke bucket and literally sizzled. you'll have to reach me at this number for a while.
My boobs are too big for things to be going this downhill in my life.
i spelled "betch" that way on purpose, don't question my abilities as a drunk texter
according to the contents of this bucket, last night i swallowed a whole teabag
I have now hooked up with 8 of the Apostles. I have no idea where I'm going to find a guy named Bartholomew.
I still don't understand how I went from crying to blowing you in like two minutes.
New development. Drinking at work is so easy and awesome I might have to do it everyday.
Everything tastes like Lysol. Am I dying?
It wasn't like a party or anything. They played PlayStation and talked about sports. Then I threw up on his porch.
Next time I think buying tan-thru bikinis is a good idea, remind me of that time I passed out in one and burned the epic shit out of my pussy.
When was that?
Yesterday. Bring aloe. For my pussy.
we told the drug dealer that our car was dead and we needed a jump so he would bring the drugs to us...
You barfed off the front porch while the elderly neighbors were walking their dog. We had to convince them not to call 911.
Pics or it didn't happen.
The guy whose house were at is drunkenly reading green eggs and ham to us in German
no real plans this weekend. trying to derail the alcohol induced fucking hell train I've been riding for the past three weeks.
Going to jail. Warrant. Be home late. For the love of god turn your ringer on.
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