I'm tuning in to watch Heidi Montag crash and burn on the Miss Universe Pageant. Somebody call 911. and I'm not talking about the Sean Kingston song.
some girl just asked me how to spell unconscious. I really want to know what she was texting.
you know, even black out drunk I can always remember the exact point where I should have stopped drinking.
on a related note, did you know that the fire alarm in our apartment talks?
MISSING: One left eyebrow. Reward if returned.
He's hinting that I'm starting to be kicked out of their blunt rides, I can feel it.
My face is tingly. And my legs are being massaged by golden elves.
Two words that describe last night: naked and backflips.
Strip mythology. Everyone wins. Most of all me.
I decided staying home, watching porn and masterbating was a much better choice than the gym. And I was right.
Is it really bad that my last patient offered to fuck my brains out if I gave her IV morphine...and I gave her my phone number and told her when my shift is over?
My aunt left me alone with the instructions to "get waisted" by the time she returns. I love drunk aunt.
I'll take care of you. Just let me pee on this old white person's car first.
Drunk level: ugly crying in the bar upon discovery of sweet tarts and not smarties.
I broke another vibrator the other day. Abstinence is not for me.
Randomize
