I don't want to talk about it. He was like the Little Engine that couldn't get me off.
Just threw up in a trash can by the ATM. Then pulled out money for weed.
Classy. Drunk on alcoholic "energy drink" at work before 8 am on a Tuesday. Between that and hanging out in bars with no pants on, your life is beginning to sound like a Bukowski novel.
I'm having post traumatic stress flashbacks of last night. That big. Don't know whether to call him again or change my name...
So currently I have a block of cheese duct taped to my air conditioner in lieu of a fridge.
I think I ruined Robin and Mikes anniversary. I walked in on them fucking, accidentally broke the necklace he gave her, and I stole the keg from their party. Not in that order
The dumpster is full of naked people swimming. I'm going to join.
When I eventually hook up with a resident lets refer to it as taking a hands on approach to my job
Idk tell her to wear something sluttty. I have that one skirt I got arrested in if she wants to borrow?
i made sure not to drool on your bed by putting my hoodie on backwards and swaddling my face in the hood
Yeah yeah, I don't care. I bought a super soaker, so lets please go attracting attention by spraying each other while wearing white tank tops?
The last thing I remember is him yelling from across the room "WE FINISHED THE HANDLE!"
It was 11pm.
He yelled "CARLI LLOYD" and then kicked the cake off the table. Soccer is making monsters out of us.
that is either the most profound and meaningful thing i've ever heard, or someone got high before noon again.
The convent might be a nice break from real life
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