I am good. I dancing. Drinking but dancing fine.
I felt like a body pillow being humped by a twelve year old.
it's to the point where working 2 jobs this summer will absolutely not cover how much i will spend on alcohol next semester.
I love how kegs are figured into our monthly bills
Think of this as an opportunity. Like Jesus just opened up his closet, and inside is an endless supply of huge, beautiful cock.
He has pizza coupons and a hammer next to his toilet.
Yelling back at the people on Jerry springer through the TV, and eventually punching it. Failure of a night.
Oh boy. Send him a care package with laxative cookies and alcohol. So he can shit himself while he's passed out drunk.
Karaoke machines out. We're taking turns farting into the microphone. Shits going south fast. Definitely be awake when you get home.
He left his phone. Turns out he;s been sexting with some girls who can't spell. Time to break out the herpes scare.
apparently i tried to facetime the drunk bus last night, that's probably why we had to walk back to campus
Drunk ass.
But I'm a half a mile from my bed. And I have the hiccups. I hate hiccups.
You can't call dibs on the bed... every time you party you KO in the bathtub
I have this vague feeling that I was involved in a dance off with a homeless man?
I changed his name in my phone to "Irrelevant" last night. Not changing it back.
Randomize