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.
We were done making out and had been asleep for a hour. I felt him put his hand on my butt. Then I farted.
why does being broke make me substitute dinner for vodka, Xanax, and two day old cupcakes? I don't like being fat, jittery and drunk.
we left the bar for like 10 minutes last night and moved his car so it wouldnt get towed. neither of us have a clue where it is right now.
Do you think we're allowed to sign male strippers into the building with a valid id?
Don't use the things I tell you while drunk after the bruins won the cup against me
I just stood up and am wasted. I think I just admitted to my mom that I am trying to fuck everyone in New York because they're skinny and ethnically ambiguous. Meanwhile, happy hour isn't over yet.
Hey I have your shoes. Do you remember shouting "Police brutality!" when the bouncer was kicking you out last night?
... why is there a bottle of pee on my headboard?
He always takes me to get taco bell after we hook up in his car. It's sort of become a booty call tradition.
Nothing like drunkenly buying a pregnancy test at 8 am to get out and realize your nip was out the whole time.
I didn't know how wild the party was going to be until one girl brought her pet raccoon
I wouldn't marry anyone who wouldn't symbolically fuck a doughnut with a sausage though.
I just moved my 11am hair appointment to 8am so I could blackout at noon. Who am I?
lmao he sent me a snapped but i'm afraid to open.
i think i have dick pic PTSD.
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