So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
you just stared at your feet and said some shit about the molecules dancing and how you had just solved physics.
k so who do I think I'm kidding applying to culinary school? I just fucked up a microwaveable pizza
One of my students just said I have "big mommy parts". Even third graders know that my tits are too big. God I love em.
i don't know at this point bringing the fog horn might be a good idea...
There r osticjed everywhere
You'll have to pretend I'm texting you with buddychecks.
Like the Jimeny Cricket of cockblocks.
Real reason I can't work: it's Tuesday. I get stoned and watch buck Rodgers in Tuesday.
Jesus Christ you're perfect.
his basement wasnt heated so when i asked for a hoodie someone gave me a kimono.. i passed bc who the fuck knows where that shit has been recently
doctors was a success... no liver damage and I lost five pounds.. we're celebrating tonight you get the whiskey I'll get the burritos.
We were all day drunk by 2pm. Now I know why they hate Americans
I would go a lot of places to get laid. But I would NOT go to Staten Island.
Got home and told boyfriend what happened. He was like "you made out with a guy you call Balls Deep?" and hi-fived me.
I feel like we'd have a lot of fun being drunk at a dog show.
My favorite bra is missing and I smell like beer and bad decisions. This is definitely a sign that hoe mode is activated.
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