And my awkwardness continues. I felt the need to send him a text that said roar. I did it.
imagine playing with puppies while we're drunk.
Like... we could film it and put like, "do you believe in magic" as the backround song and it would be complete joy.
so what if he's got a new girlfriend. the guy i'm fucking has an english accent. i win.
I think I breastfed the cat at some point during the night, at least that's what my nipples are saying
I told him I don't date guys unless they play a musical instrument. So, he's here and he brought a kazoo.
I haven't been this hungover since you found me laying in front of your door gagging with pepto bismal tablets scattered around me
I'd rather say I'm a whore then admit it's his child. Its that bad.
let's just say I never want to get pulled over and have to explain to the cop why I'm wearing a false beard again.
PRINCE HARRY WAS AT WAL MART SO NEXT TIME YOU BITCH ABOUT GOING TO WAL MART REMEMBER THAT EVEN PRINCE HARRY GOES TO WAL MART.
I'm really stoned in my underwear. I probably won't make it to the bar.
151 hangover. Need apocalypse.
I don't know what part of my sober brain thought it was a good idea to get stoned when I can barely walk with crutches as it is, but that part is stupid.
The fact that you screamed, "Alf is my spirit animal!" is proof enough that we're too old for peyote.
so apparantly i made out with 24 santas last night...and an elf...and a stoner
I was running because his wife invited me to join them on their kinky Vegas weekend. Crossing state lines is too much commitment for me.
Randomize
