I feel like death. And death is wearing a fleece blanket as a dress. And is seriously contemplating wearing this to go get something to eat.
It's official. Every guy I've slept with has been to jail.
I'm taking last night back. It officially didn't happen. Tell your friends.
I feel like someone was just looking at my memory and took out an eraser and was like "nope he doesnt need that"
Level of drunkenness: just now when I sat down on the toilet, I had to double check to make sure I wasn't sitting on somebody's lap.
I have so much boob sweat I could bathe a baby
How bad would it be if I wore out the dress we got peed on in. You're the only one who knows.
You were so high that you only FaceTimed me so that you could stare into your own eyes and not actually say anything
some how during sex we caught an ENTIRE pillow on fire. A WHOLE PILLOW.
I actually haven't slept with anyone in a while. I think my whore phase is just seasonal.
Well. I hope my dad likes whatever sweater stoned me picks out.
NO FUCKING RANDOMS IN AN ALLEY
DO NOT TRY TO APPROACH HER CAT. IT IS A DEMON CAT FROM SATAN'S BALLS AND IT *WILL* TRY TO KILL YOU. I SPEAK FROM EXPIRENCE.
Bug bite on my vagina. I think we need to stop this 'sex in awesome places campaign.'
your fucking longboard fell on me while we were having sex you fucking hipster
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