new low: just stole a ciggarette from a bum sleeping on the side of the street.
ohh what kind?
If i'm not hungover, near death, and wondering what i did the night before on Monday, life is not worth living.
We need to start having rules for the weekends. Like no more downing 3 shots because we want to slut dance a little harder or because biggie just came on.
every single one of us blacked out. we woke up the next morning and it was like the night never happened. IT'S STILL A MYSTERY
If there was a god I would have a big mac right now, but i don't
I wonder if that one guy remembers you sticking salami to his forehead when he was passed out on new years eve.
I miss waking up knowing you're passed out under my bed.
Wash that dress asap. You laid down on the kitchen floor and tried to sweep the floor with your body.
I'm gonna make a mold of your dick so I can make popsicles
I have a huge bruise on my thigh that I am 95% sure is due to you repeatedly throwing me over couches.
You should not be allowed to go away on the weekends I plan on getting drunk on. I need someone to stop me from punching this guy in the face. It's simple room mate etiquette.
The hardest part about being a child of divorce is when you're at your dad's house but your condoms are at your mom's house.
This bar smells like your ball sack. In a weird way I miss you.
Is it weird to befriend your older alcoholic landlords?
Do you remember feeding the vacuum doritos last night?
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