Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
My favorite part of our friendship is your tits.
Last night I fell down in the street (I think in someone's vomit), cut my knee up, lost my moms necklace and my license, and had to walk back to the hotel.
I can't be held responsible for my own vagina. Let's just be honest here.
She just referred to her vagina as "this bitch".
Just specific performance'd my way into her pants. I literally said specific performance and that shit worked. Thanks B. Law!
Mom called her a cunt. I think that's code for "don't bring her over ever again."
I'm washing down the sadness with shots of vodka.
Got it in all night, now at a bar at 730 am and we are the only two people here. Somewhere my mid twenties father is applauding me.
yyyea i think im gonna go get a bowl and play skyrim. And by bowl i mean something i can throw up in, not weed
I was standing in my mom's kitchen in only my neon green thong, eating pizza over the garbage can, and sobbing while he was yelling at me.
If it snows I'm making an igloo and getting wasted in it
I'm sending you a dick pic. Ill tell the other ppl in this pancheros its cool
Don't send a pic of dick unless it's inside the burrito
Chugging this bottle of Jim at the airport is proving more difficult than I imagined. TSA is not amused.
I knew it was all downhill from there when the straight vodka I was drinking tasted like water.
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