So I've been thinking a lot since she told me she's prego. But what I want to know is why my voice of reason sounds like Thomas fucking Jane!?
I'm eating lunch next to a table of beautiful culturally-diverse women chattering away happily. It's like sitting next to a Yaz commercial.
Completly hung over at midnight, I knew there was a downside to drinking at 2pm
Today's face brought to you by last night's make-up.
It's great having no responsibilities. In normal life I would be freaking the fuck out right about now. But the only worry I have from last night is where i got this shower caddy full of cookies. God I love college.
Turned on my GPS and all that it said in the search bar was "beer,"
Well the "Blackout with your sack out" party turned out predictably.
All I know is she walked in crying with a bag of limes and a bottle of tequila and has been locked in her room blasting lil wayne ever since.
And by "schedule" I meant crumbled up liquor store receipt, that I wrote shit on.
Trying to take a nap and my brain decides to play "lets have flashbacks every time you blew it with a chick in college". It's a montage of stupidity and youthful inexperience. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
We were drunk having sex and I knocked over her bedside table/fish bowl and she jumped off to check if her fish was still alive but she made me pasta so it's cool
Just so you know.. If you ever cheat on me, i will cut your dick and fingers off and post them as my cover photo on Facebook. Love you.
If I could drink as much and have the amount of sex he has at his age, well I'd probably be dead
How was the tequila? Are you making bad decisions yet?
If he’s halfway attractive, employed and cool with me having boytoys, I’ll marry him
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