I'm gonna play a drinking game called "Sarah takes the train"
My boss just gave me full permission to come into work wasted this weekend.
It was like fucking a house. Down the chimney. That deep and empty.
No more Irish car bombs ever.
Hangover cure: shower, throw up again, sleep for 4 hours, eat salsa, brush teeth. Good to go.
we've coined the Sunday morning ritual of taking out our puke-filled trash cans as The Trash Of Shame
All right cuz right now I'm in one of those moods where the shear thought of doing anything more strenuous than making a sandwich has me wanting to curl up in the feeble position and splash around in a puddle of my own tears.
You stumbled in at 10am, half-clothed and still drunk from last night and yelled "well, its not called a walk of pride!", then passed out on the couch.
Don't forget: you only show your tits for the good beads. Be judicious.
Do you know how to give stiches?
I do not...this text concerns me
And by "schedule" I meant crumbled up liquor store receipt, that I wrote shit on.
I just compared his sexting to a plate of spaghetti. And he STILL wants to sleep with me.
So it's safe to say that it's all down hill from here
Do you mean easy livin or downward spiral of alcoholism and disappointment
Stay home. Ain't nothing out in these mean streets but plan b and regret
I JUST NEEDED TO TELL YOU I JUST FUCKED TWO BOYS IN THE SPAN OF LIKE THREE HOURS AND ONE OF THEM WAS MY SISTERS PROM DATE FROM HIGH SCHOOL IM LOWKEY BOTH PROUD AND ASHAMED
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