'Watching yourself cry on Photobooth' is the new 'watching yourself cry in the mirror.'
the bulge in his pants is not junk. its hair. trust.
He broke up with me by playing Lynyrd Skynyrd "Free Bird".
you asked a group of latinas stood by the bar to hold a minutes silence for ugly betty getting cancelled. that drunk.
The stories of what you did in Cuba got home before you.
We're trying to see who can drink the most and still be eligible to donate blood tomorrow.
you know who we are? We're the female white stoner version of Kenan and Kel.
This is the most scared i've been of my hands since i did shrooms.
I got us a lift home. Payment may require me giving road head, are you cool just chilling in the back seat pretending to be oblivious to this happening?
Brandon's Recipe: two parts cocoa, one part sugar, one part milk, two parts four, 378 parts paranoia. Thanks for the fucking brownies, bitch.
I woke up with his condom in my mouth. I actually use them now you should be proud of me.
It takes a special kind of Adderall to make me go to the hardware store, buy paint, and paint tiny polka-dots on all four of my bedroom walls.
His crazy is a thing to be cherished
My professor just told my lab he could drive us around town in his 1991 Lincoln towncar limo for our bar crawl. This just keeps getting better!
I think it stinks she’s cheating on him. My vagina on the other hand is tingly thinking about a summer of sexual healing
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