Holy jesus god. My teeth taste like street.
And if you don't call me, I will embarrass you publicly with a can of spray cheez.
Im dancing with my grandma to Low right now at the wedding. There's no coming back from this.
I fucking love fucking science majors-- she told me that she wanted to know if her gag reflex got better or worse with alcohol, and that her initial evidence had been inconclusive. So, next few weeks, yeah, gettin blown periodically. All I have to do is keep a log.
I'd rather say I'm a whore then admit it's his child. Its that bad.
I am soup sandwich. I have been at dAnce party
listening to happy ending by mika while imagining him to run after me at an aiport in slow motion... also, dipping oreos in baileys. not taking this breakup well. at. all.
I already banned bobbing for apples. While drunk that's just drowning near fruit.
God I hope the gutter I die in is nice. You know, for a gutter.
If I pissed all over some chicks bed I would probably apologize for getting so wasted, not putting out, and turning into a god damn R. Kelly Cinderella... Not ask for coffee and a ride home.
Correction... Drunk on winter break. There are no days of the week on break.
I heard you shushing me, but my screaming orgasm drowned it out.
Apparently I missed the "You may have to jack off a horse" part of the application.
He got in a fight. Then called me drunk to see if he should bail his friends out, or walk through a Taco Bell drive-thru. True love.
We had a pink drink in honor of my underwear and apparently I made out with our bartender... a few times
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