things it involved: vodka, boy parts, possible photos of me on a cell phone. things it did NOT involve last night: my bra, his pants, and sobriety.
some girl just asked me how to spell unconscious. I really want to know what she was texting.
We don't need a hotel, we'll just sleep in the post office.
I HAVE stop dating guys for their prescriptions, you have no idea how awkward family dinner was. Thank god for his xanax.
She pulled out a handful of chest hair. And then gave the room a Brave Heartesque speech.
Good. I hope they all got E.Coli from snorting coke off of some homeless prick's asshole.
I threw up sweet potatoes. Worst thing to throw up ever. They came back mashed.
Doing lines of coke through pieces of licorice. Because I can
Only sluts go out in this weather carpe diem boys
The entire state will know me by my boobs.
I don't know what I was talking about but I just threw up in ikea. You can't get out of this place it's a fucking labyrinth.
How's everyone else's ass tattoo today?
I want you more than I want a burrito.
I'm not as filling.
The cat was building a spaceship out of the carpet, my legs were cans of tomato sauce, and there was something else in that pot you gave me.
How is it that I can make it to my 8am Friday morning still drunk after passing out the night before...but not to my 9am on Tuesday that I went to bed early for? Irony or karma?
Randomize
