6:33 AM: I'm drunk at this time of morning.
Oh. Im drinking alone in a banana costume. Every time youre feeling down, i want you to think of me right now and know that your life is better than mine.
its simple. when his lips are on my clitoris i want to marry him. when they are speaking i want to kill him.
You broke a window with your face. I don't think the landlord will be as impressed as we were.
on toilet. in drag. drinking coffee vodka. I regret nothing.
and on the fourth day, god made foam parties.
He made off the wall shots in beer pong, stuck the girls dog in a cooler, and played with swords with her mom. I wish I got his name
He made me this shot called the allergen. It was a shot of vodka with a Claritin dropped in it.
All I want is to send a text that says "i slept with someone while wearing nothing but purple argyle socks this weekend." But the only person i would send that to is you. But you already know. Because they were your socks.
Does it count as working out if stops are taken every half hour to smoke a blunt?
That was so not worth putting pants on for.
On another note; I'm three days away from being 1/12th of my way from not having sex for a year. I need to get laid.
I told him I just left the convent and really wanted a man. He fell for it. Sure beats telling him I'm a nympho stalker that followed him to the bar when I saw his beard.
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It just so happens all of their names are Ryan, so I never have to change whose name I moan.
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