Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
he would probably call me "ma'am" when he's inside me. people love saying weird shit inside me.
remeber the saying "bad choices make good memories" dude our bad choices dont even make memories.
Either way you look at it, I'm a slut. But either way I look at it, I'm having a fucking blast.
No fireworks. Throwing the old microwave off the deck.
I just got a nosebleed on a date at the cheesecake factory...
just run out of the bathroom with blood gushing down your face and scream "ITS IN THE CHEESECAKE!!!!!"
Breakfast Clubbing as Juggalos. I can feel our IQs in freefall.
god it feels good to gold a bottle of opiates again.
I think that typo was actually more appropriate than what you intended.
I just realized I slept with a guy who used the pickup line "do you have a bandaid? I skinned my knee when I fell for you."
I am 95% sure I just heard my cat say "What are you doing home? It's Saturday night."
I jumped the fence at the bar last night. My dress got stuck and I ended up flashing the entire patio for a good 30 seconds.
At the 10 second mark everyone started to whistle and cheer. Free drinks all night
I think we have some hyper-understanding of each other when drunk, because looking back at our text convo from last night, they were literally just jumbled letters.
Clothing is a burden necessitated by propriety.
So apparently I’m into choking now
The career specialist read an Onion article to us. Please send help.
Randomize
