I got a call from 999 999 9999. I didn't answer it because I was too busy freaking out about the number.
It was probably Jesus.
I feel like he would have left a message.
At one point last night while tipping the bartender you looked at him and said "If I need money later, I'm taking this back"
I dinstinctly remember making out to "I believe I can fly" and waving my arms like a bird to the beat.
We're too lazy to do dishes, so we're making sangria in a flower vase.
I'll be honest. I knew what I was getting into. I'm not proud, but I'll be damned if I'm ashamed. 6 month draught is over. That's justice.
Pretty sure I can show you the text you sent me stating some interest in my penis entering your mouth if said circumstances were met.
I feel like his penis would have a weird haircut because he does.
I do believe at one point I was dispensing medical advice while wearing your sombrero and a hulk hand
Because i love you. And people show love by not letting their friends shit themselves.
Come to the roof. We are drinking breakfast.
Almost to work. And still feel hungover. Like my body is trying to regenerate after dying. Full on zombie shit. But like, one of those zombies from warm bodies that comes back to life slowly.
I've spent all afternoon taking and editing selfies. The life of a bimbo is truly tiring.
The old guy next door tried to get me to go to his apartment for shots formoonshine. =-0
If that weren't so sketchy I would encourage it
Yeah it was almost as sketchy as a white panel van pulling up offering candy
Nothing. Its like my body doesn't know how to function on a Saturday when its not hungover and/or still drunk.
We ran out of toilet paper so Ive been using coffee filters
Randomize