I'm at some bar in brklyn... just made out with a guy named Owen.
He is a pre-school teacher... just sang me a song about weather.
I am coming home for anal
* a nap*
I'm at the laundry mat. This guy is here showing me his ankle monitor. The weird ones always find me.
people are starting to question the shark bite story
its 9am and we're in an escalade. I have no shoes and my dress is on backwards. I feel like we're the morning after a rap video
Hes still not moving. At what point does 'hungover' become 'hospital-time?'
Life's too short to consider the larger psychological underpinnings of my lust.
He may or may not be blacked out. We put him to sleep in the community bathroom. He's wrapped in your blanket and he's already puked on it twice. Using your blanket was my idea. Maybe next time you'll ask before taking my vodka.
Literally best acid trip ever. Better than sex. At one point she looked over at me, started crying, holds up her hands and said "dinosaur tears of sadness". Craziest roommate ever.
So question, would you consider it morally wrong to grind up Cialas and put it in ones cocktail? Then I get what I want and he doesn't have to be embarrassed and he can win the mental game with himself? I'm only thinking of him...
Also, rendered a whole bar silent last night when I told a guy to take off his panties and take a shot out of my cleavage. Video to follow...
Is it wrong that I want to do a nude photo shoot with nothing but a light saber?
I'm wearing sunglasses around my house. Douchebag status. The hangover is real.
You left me a message at 3am crying because you just found out there's a Paddington Bear statue in Peru.
Do you ever look at your life and go "i'm too sober for this bullshit"?
Every day of my life.
Randomize
