No stitches, just platelets and will power
I love how my cats smell like pot.
it's official, i've been high in 26 different states, and three different countries.
come over, blizzard of oz party. dress up.
its all coming back to me in waves....waves of humiliation and nausea.
Well on a positive note, crystal light now comes in margarita flavor
i spent an hour trying to convince my psychiatrist that the fact that i showed up for my appointment drunk was progress, and she does not agree
I would watch the shit out of some full house right now.
It's that time of the week again where I begin to ponder life's great questions like, "What will my pathetic excuse for a future look like?" and "Why tacos?"
I really hope your new roommate never finds out we had a threesome with a bisexual British guy in his room the night before he moved in.
If you're wearing dry underwear your day is already better than mine.
I watch one musical on Netflix, and the "Suggested for you" section is literally almost the entire gay movie category. I feel profiled, and netflixs' accuracy about my sexuality is both impressive and offensive.
You cuddled up under the blanket because you said it smelled like Santa and vodka.
I mean, drunk me really liked him, maybe sober me will too. Who am I to deny fate?
Last night i walked into a gas station to get condoms. I threw them on the counter and the guy gave me a funny look because i was wearing a bra under an open cardigan and no shoes. I screamed "DONT JUDGE ME!" and he gave them to me for free.
Randomize