Apparently last night I sat at the bar with an upside down sharpie lightning bolt on my forehead, yelling "It's Harry Potter's birthday! Let me be on the qudditch team!" And I kept calling the bartender Dobby. There are videos.
Problem: At home sick with a stomach virus. Solution: smoke weed all day...
screw that ipod for my birthday.. i just want a weed brownie the size of my face. that's all.
He gave me his number and said the usual call whenever you need someone but then was like... or just call me.
You would pick up a guy in AA.
I swear this guy grew up in land without leagues. someone should inform him he's way out of mine
i pretended i was deaf and got a girl to come home with me
I got the number from the girl at uhaul even after she saw me throw up all over the parking lot with a 6 pack in my hands.
I just had to explain to my 62 year old advisor what "tea-bagging" was in the middle of her lecture. I smell extra credit. And maybe a demonstration.
Want to come over? I'm getting stoned and watching Netflix and making s'mores over a candle in my room
On NPR this morning, farmers are feeding weed to pigs. The result: pot bacon. Life just got better.
The picture on Facebook I was just tagged in, with the mask, that is the definition of Carmen, my drunk alter ego
They live across the street from a school baseball field so they have porter potties across the street and let's just say that I'm grateful they exist
But truly, sorry about your empty vagina
Thanks boo.
I may or may not of seen my high school physics teacher making out with my old high school boyfriend at the bar last night
Well... This is my last night at the resort. So far, the only thing that has been in my vagina is sand.
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