well, it ended with me crying outside the strip club saying i don't want to be 21 anymoree. i'd say it was a great 21st birthday.
I mean I'm forever immortalized as the one who puked in his dad's straw hat.
Im pretty sure he just said he wants to make a baby with me, but he's pretty shitfaced, so I'm not sure if he knows who I am.
I just slow jerked to the titanic theme song, i dont think theres enough alcohol in the state to get me over her tonight
It's that "make a Pringle and Twinkie sandwich" kind of depression.
bad sex. bad bad bad. it was like trying to pick up an overcooked noodle with an empty pringles can. why do these guys always seem to find me?
can't decide if i look like a hooker or a missing member of Poison today
You don't care if I shave my legs, but you insist I be conscious for sex. Whatever. I really think your priorities are out of whack.
Using a miniature baseball bat to kill a mosquito in the house may not have been the most efficient or safest way, but that thing is fucking dead. However, so are three wine glasses, a lamp, and my baseball bat privileges. Worth it.
Date idea: we should go to the store and buy all the different kinds of Lay's and eat them all
I danced with this guy last night, I left like I was humped by a blind baby kangaroo trying to body-box.
Ran into him again last night, stole his glowstick and walked away. The glowstick mountain in my room keeps growing.
The only person I have to bring is crazy hospital guy
HE'S NOT INVITED!!!
can we just punch him in the dick and call it a victory for feminism
"Because this is an ongoing legal matter" is how his morning after sex text began. So...
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