Just sold all of my pants in order to buy tonight's whiskey. Goodbye, high functioning alcoholism. Hello, Dad.
im in class. still drunk. wearing one sock. eating a breakfast sandwich and trying to make sure this bottle of whiskey doesnt fall out of my purse in front of my professor
there are chunks of pepperoni under the sheets. can you be here in 10? breakfast in bed?
Its important to me that you know there is a tambourine down my pants.
I hate him and his pretentious your-sleeping-in-the-wet-spot look.
NEVER LET ME DO THIS AGAIN I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA SHIT MYSELF TO DEATH ARGHHHHHGHHG IS THIS WHAT DYSENTERY FEELS LIKE
I'll never be able to have sex on these sheets. I'd have to cover up the eyes of every single Elmo.
Besides the kids on acid... I was the highest kid there
I sent him this really overly apologetic text asking him out. It was just sad. Not even 27 shots of whiskey can grow me a self-esteem.
Literally too hungover to clean. I'll get the frosting off the table tomorrow, ok?
But in fairness, I would totally have a robo-penis as long as it had full sensation.
How is it that I, the only one that didn't drink last night, was the only one puking out the car window?
Are you saying being a wizard and going to hogwarts wouldn't be life changing, believe in magic you fucking muggle
Of course, it's a law of friendship. "Thy friend Shalt always hold hatred for thine friend's swinish ex"
I puked on someone's floor last night and then they proceeded to ask me on a date.
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