every time i drive by the road she lives on, i scream in the car "i'm sorry i'm sleeping with your boyfriend!" makes me feel less whore-y.
You know, I really only think drinking is a problem if you're not good at it.
By the grace of god and the ingenuity of Alexander Graham Bell, this text message is made possibe: YOU ARE A WHORE
The little penguins are speaking with a hispanic accent. I dont know how to feel about it. Geographically speaking, this cant be possibly. This isnt cool.
as it turns out, there is no "i was in the pool" excuse for adderall-induced shrinkage.
Times like this, when you talk openly about Tinkerbell being your spirit animal, are times when I'm allowed to question your sexuality.
there is a money trail leading from my bathroom to my living room.. the trail ends with a half eaten bag of chips with a note that says "magical chipz".. who am i?
I shit myself. Legit. And I burnt my tongue. Unrelated incidents, but related in the sense of general discomfort.
Well I think won that argument, as the cops were leaving, they offered me a ride to the airport
We exchanged snapchat usernames instead of numbers. Is that what America has come to?
My vagina is officially offended.
So my class is approximately two vomits from the bus stop. Happy first day of class
Why the HOLY HELL is my dog on my roof??? Sam?? Why is the dog wearing my pants
Well, I wish you luck on finding out who your boyfriend is
just had an acid flashback in my therapist's office. i am a walking stereotype
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