These hangoverless Sunday mornings are becoming too regular.
I started making my dollar bills into rings for the strippers
I put an asterick after the names of people in my phone that I've fucked. Both as a form of bragging, and also so I can actually remember all their names.
I'm now drinking beer through a straw. By order of the bartender.
If anyone wants to ring in the new year with gluttony and yoga pants, let me know. As soon as it becomes a socially acceptable hour to drink margaritas, I'm gonna go down on a chimichanga.
BUT I think maybe Thursday in celebration of America we should probably tan and see how fast we can finish everything in the liquor cabinet.
I had a dream about that dude. It was the first time I had a dream about him since the tryst.
The tryst?
The hookup. I like using sophisticated words for my foolish decisions. Makes me retain some dignity.
Someone brought brownies to work and I was skeptical to eat one then I remembered I was at work and there is no way there is weed in them. Haha I'm blaming you for that.
Men are too sensitive. They need to learn to handle me.
So apparently, after 11 beers, 2 pitchers of sangria and 3 rhum & cokes, the idea of popping a load of MD and jumping on the trampoline, in the woods, in my underwear was the best one ever.
If I die tonight somebody's going to have to let all my tinder matches know.
i'm growling thTa how much i wNn slwwwp.
save me some of whatever you're doing i'll be there in five.
You’re going to be a doctor, and I’m going to be a trophy wife. We both have goals
I never thought I'd be complaining about having sex 4 times a day, but here we are...
Now I know Sunday Funday means fucking till you loose your voice.
Randomize
