My t9 writes chubies instead of bitches.
either way. win, win.
Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
you probably should not have drank the wine that everyone spits out. and the sad part, that was not even your low point last night
Her dress is practically falling off. It must know I'm here.
It' a whole new level of walk of shame. I'm carrying his sheets since I have a washer/dryer.
I hid my booze in my old Sesame Street lunch box. Big Bird might be disappointed, but I feel Oscar the Grouch would approve.
I would not wish his dick upon my worst enemy
Life Epiphany- I need to have children so I can be the drunk grandma at family functions. Its my destiny.
Ugh I can't even look at alcohol this weekend, my body needs to heal.
i am laugh crying so hard the guy next door stopped playing guitar
Who's the easier target... Bandages on the knees, tramp stamp, or bra showing? Not in the mood to work for it tonight.
Ugh. The fucking vaginal recession is so real right now.
How to not get laid: tell him he reminds you of your brother. While having sex. Thanks, vodka.
drunk snapchatting is the worst, because i woke up with great pictures of my tits saved to my memories and no idea who i sent them to
This is why I can't take dates to shows... I've literally made out with everyone in this band. And two of the guys in the crowd. And the bartender.
Randomize
