I woke up with ten beers in my bag that hoarded at the party last night. Rally? Its five somewhere.
I'm buying eyelash glue, salt, and limes. We know how tonight is ending.
We almost died tonight..we almost die every night. but tonight was the closest by far
i love that feeling when you wake up and have no idea how you got back to your dorm or why you have mac and cheese on your cheeks and eyelashes in your mouth
he fucked me to the beat of the construction going on outside my house. i will never look at jackhammers the same ever again.
My contribution to the dinner party was a bottle of vodka and a bag of uncooked potatoes. I felt like a Russian serf.
I gave his parents a candle as a thanks for letting me hang out there all the time. Which i guess is more accurately a thanks-for-letting-me-fuck-your-son candle
and by clear my head i mean get drunk and cry myself into oblivion.
I have reverted to folding laundry while watching porn. how much sadder can my life get?
So question, would you consider it morally wrong to grind up Cialas and put it in ones cocktail? Then I get what I want and he doesn't have to be embarrassed and he can win the mental game with himself? I'm only thinking of him...
I'm so sorry to hear about your grandmother. Also how many grams are in an eighth?
she stuffed her marc jacobs purse full of cereal
classy
Hey how're your balls?
Don't ever let me helicopter again.
I am so so sorry I bit your butt last night. Twice.
Come as you are, bitch. Glitter and vodka provided.
Randomize