so he expects you to be his vegas whore for the season. nice.
My drug dealer is spending the weekend in my studio apartment. I feel like I've crossed a line that should never be crossed.
He called me a "functional alcoholic" like its a bad thing.
dude, there's a fucking musical in my head. it's fucking awesome being this high.
Found my smoke alarm in a ziploc in my toilet...again
I guess I gave him a 20 minute play-by-play of the first three sections of R. Kelly's 'trapped in a closet.'
All I know is she had me sitting on the kitchen floor with her little Pomeranian eating potato chips And shredded cheese. I don't even know dude. I don't even know.
He's more than prepared to help us move. Dude brought sunscreen, cans of Coke, and Captain Morgan.
remind me to get a blood sugar test this week. I'm pretty sure I'm a mojito away from diabetes.
I feel like our low point of the night was when we had to start chasing with ice cubes and wheat thins.
I had to find out that I peed in the box of baby clothes from my mom, who found out from my grandma. New low.
The last thing I remember was paying off her younger brother not to judge me, then puking on his shoes.
Uhm after 8 I don't recall anything. All I know is there's a picture of me playing pong with my grandmother.
Congratulations on your downgrade, shes one hell of a 5
It's statistically impossible for there not to be at least one guy sexting you right now
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