I realized courtney is my jiminy cricket but instead of preventing me from telling lies she prevents me from fucking strangers
I would have been "that girl" at the party last night if it wasn't for that girl who puked in the potted plant...
I feel like i made up for not being able to drink on St Pattys Day, Mardi Gras, and last years Cinco De Mayo. That hungover.
I love how my cats smell like pot.
say it with me now .. the "golden" penis. his nickname does not disappoint.
Midnight run for medical supplies ended several hours later with a lapdance to the Braveheart soundtrack.
I really need to stop drunk texting. My one night stand just agreed to go roller skating.
He licked the chalk off his shirt, then spat the Mountain Dew from his mouth onto the shirt and sucked on it. And thats him sober.
First of all, I don't like eggnog. Second of all too much rum is all bad. And thirdly I'm not there to sit in your lap and pretend you are Santa and I've been a bad girl.
I'm imaging you naked, covered in butter. And I gotta say, I'm not impressed.
They pay me enough to pretend to be either helpful, or heterosexual. If they want both I need one hell of a raise.
Why let a Christmas Eve hangover ruin a perfectly good Christmas Day acid trip?
I need to start journaling my drunk thoughts. Drunk me is fucking brilliant & sober me is missing out.
And now, by the power vested in me by the state of intoxication, I now pronounce you fucking awesome.
Looking back, we probably shouldn't have chased alcohol with more alcohol
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