Joe is yelling at the trees again.
Legitimately semi-blackout across the table from the governor off a chardonnay i can't even pronounce.
The fact that both my ribs are severely bruised from shoving flasks in my bra might be a validation of my mothers alcoholic accusation
oh and i'm sorry i sold you for three cigarettes last night
I HAVE A PRESENT FOR YOU AND ITS NOT MY VAGINA
My underwear are in the stairs so apparently I did take the dog out.
We are trying to penis chicken awkward them out. But I think it's a gay wedding. Backfiring. Heavily.
Two really nice girls helped clean the taco out of my hair.
He called my boobs fluffy. Part sexy part pilsbury dough boy. Part sexy pilsbury dough boy. I'm so confused. And flattered?
So it turns out "let's pretend to be gay so guys will stop hitting on us" was step one in her plan to get me into bed...
Drink. Fuck. Waffle House. Repeat.
Went home with a guy last night with Taco Bell sauce in my hair and on my pants
learning about efficiency and effectiveness in an administration seminar. real world application: walking across the street to the pub on break to shotgun a beer.
I can't wait to see you again. It will be like when we first started dating- but with less clothes.
Been using bowl smoking as a method of time for so long I don't know how long it actually takes to get to work
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