There was a fist fight in my basement last night at four in the morning, in case you were wondering
this is a mass text: i just made a grilled cheese with an iron and pasta with the coffeemaker in the hotel room. bow before your new god.
i need a wealthy benefactor or a cocktail job. or to start stripping. or kill myself. whatever.
Me + Nice restaurant + Copious amounts of booze + obscene comments to couples = valentine's day plans
I just found a bottle of gin in my vegetable crisper. Party is back on.
Just told him about my threesome. if that doesn't make him want to date me nothing will.
the fda needs to get their shit together cause these four loko going away parties are gonna kill me
Kill yourself wednesday started off with a bang, and im pretty sure im still drunk from tequila tuesday.
He threw up, and left his credit card next to the puddle. He kept on saying he wanted to pay for the damages.
And after getting thrown out of the frat house, getting carried up the hill for a half an hour, puking 5 times, and almost getting stopped by campus security, she still insisted he sleep with her. Gotta give her credit, even blacked she kept her eyes on the prize
My black heart of coal cannot compete with your boiling crock pot of teddy bears, rainbows, 90s music, and the good candy you get from rich people on Halloween.
I have poison ivy and a broken finger. Don't have a threesome in the woods.
My mom just drunk texted me complaining about her genitals smelling like Taco Bell. I really am her son
If my life today were a movie the subtitle would be: Revenge of the Beer Shits
You're even getting laid in my dreams, god I'm a good wingman
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