Writing a book: The Evolution of the Douche Bag: From Popped Collars to Ed Hardy Shirts. Doing research now.
Make sure you include chapters on white sunglasses, spray tans, and toxic amounts of hair gel.
Me too. I'd like to spend all next summer high and drunk and riding ponies and boys.
I just spent a chunk of my Christmas money on Plan B. I don't think that's what my relatives had mind when they said "spend it wisely", but hey, it was a good investment considering the bad life choices i made last night.
I'm at the cafe. It's 7am. There is a girl I don't know on my futon who tried to tickle me this morning when I got down from my loft. I also not wearing any underwear.
Just had a nice conversation with my landlord while cleaning your puke off my car
Sometimes you gotta take the crosseyed stripper. fuck it
It was one of those you-have-no-other-way-home-and-we-already-made-out-so-I-guess-youre-coming-home-with-me-if-you-promise-to-leave-early kind of deals.
I came in your room, you looked at me and said "I fucked up" and then some kid showed up and took you to the hospital
Last thing I remember is beer bonging sangria. Dear God.
Should I have a moral quandary about Skyping topless with him while his son slept in the other room?
Somehow ended up home, probably had something to do with the makeshift ladder from my second story window. Now headed to church, still drunk, and still fighting back the vomit of a thousand different alcohols. Successful night.
Must've forgot to hang up with her when I was telling Josh I plan to pop champagne if I nail her tonight. She showed up with a bottle and said "only if we can toast it with Josh"
I made a bong out of my deodorant today. Did you?
What's worse having drunken sex with hot married man or breaking the diet one week in?
It's almost like he's actually taking my commentary and criticism to heart, but simultaneously succumbing to some primal urge to wear less clothing each time.
Randomize
