dude, my own friends sent me home from a party last night. real cool assholes. real cool
My underwear smells like fireworks.
Robbie told me you spent 10 mins discussing the curl in his hair and that you said "with that curl in your hair, you'll go far"
at least the cop wrote "happy birthday" on the ticket.
We were making condiment sandwiches, then her husband kept trying to get me to sleep with her. I hate being the only lesbian at the party.
This football player keeps talking about his drunk dad. I think he may start crying. Does this deserve a roll tide?
Whenever we go out my brain flips on autopilot, straight to blackout.
time out. can we just pause the wholesome understanding friendship thing and be fuck buddies for a night?
we need a secret handshake
Almost to work. And still feel hungover. Like my body is trying to regenerate after dying. Full on zombie shit. But like, one of those zombies from warm bodies that comes back to life slowly.
You just said you hate yourself then sent me a picture of your friend's penis. Clearly this is a night of honesty.
I take pride in being a married 31 year old who sleeps on her best friend's bathroom floor from time to time.
You kept whispering to me that the guy making your burrito was an angel.
i puked in a jesus candle last night and then denied it... i'd say it was a pretty alright night
Pooping to opera.
Pillow talk was a high five, this morning she made dinosaur muffins for the house. I love chapel hill
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