Last night i stole a disco ball from a frat house by pretending i was pregnant.
morning outfit: hottub soaked skirt. no underwear. someone's bandanna worn as a shirt. took me an hour to walk home. this isn't fun anymore.
I learned much from the teen babysitter: I can light a cigarette in a microwave.
Did I get blown in the bathroom? Yes. Did she throw up cranberry juice on my shorts? Yes. Did she finish the job? Yes.
The class that normally occupies the room we use for my Monday class had to do posters as if for a Hamlet movie and they pick actors for each character and this person wrote "Robert D. Niro"
you know something has gone wrong in your life when you've gotten a court order to stay away from ALL mc donalds.
she's my drunk super hero.
I have no idea what happened last night, but you're the only person I remember smashing my face into. Be honored.
All I'm saying is that your next houseguest had better not barge in on me in the shower demanding I wash the stolen dye from his hair. I'm not doing that a second time.
She wouldn't put out on the first date. I think my boner put a hole in my mattress.
Not sorry that my walk of shame this morning was barefoot on my scooter.
Kids parked next to me are getting it on. I'm eating chicken nuggets listening to Kanye alone. Happy Valentine's Day.
Just drink your champagne out of a trophy like a fuckin winner
A shark bit my leg in the Gulf of Mexico well me and the T were banging so look for it in the papers
You can't just say "I scored us a potential threesome" and then not text me back.
So how was it?
The cemetery or the sex?
Randomize