So, apparently I made everyone omelets last night. Even when I'm drunk, I'm still a trophy wife.
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
you walked into the kitchen holding the skyy bottle and asked us "how do i warm this?"
Sitting next to a girl in the computer cluster who just googled syphilis symtoms, started crying & got up and left. My life suddenly seems better.
And to think..we used to do everything sober...
im shotgunning beers in the kitchen. alone. the cat is judging me.
They are fixing my bike for free, trying to smoke me out, and their kids keep hugging me.
You got me so high that I almost couldn't leave my house for a bar because there was nothing to lean against on the way there
I'm in a dress, surrounded by Republicans, and the bartender just told me he's "out of Jack Daniels" in a very accusatory tone. Shit, is it only 8 PM?
Welp, I can cross "making out with a guy in a dress" off my bucket list...
He snapchatted me his dick and he's circumcised....BRB going to hug his Mom
I could be busy drinking my face off and getting red white and bruised per usual
Do you have pictures of my pancakes
I need to show the world
They are the pancake equivalent of eventual wife
I'm totally picking out my shrooming outfit and blankets right now
Tbh I’m not a vibrator enthusiast
But I am godly
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