Im already sauced. Have been for hours. Its kinda my thing.
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
He let me keep his flannel as a "good job" for the great head I gave him.
Either way you look at it, I'm a slut. But either way I look at it, I'm having a fucking blast.
He came into the hospital yelling "HEY EVERYBODY! REMEMBER ME?"
dude you guys. You can't throw up in the recycling bin. I don't think vomit is recyclable
God forbid we drive unregistered mopeds without license plates on a pedestrians only sidewalk without goggles while flipping off passing cars.
I have to stop drunkenly making out with guys just because they're tall or have a beard.
I was very proud of myself that day. I had an awesome time. I don't care if I negatively impacted others.
Tried to ride the mechanical bull pants less, got punched for making out with some lesbians wife, and you tipped the bartender with a can of skoal.
I regret nothing
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
Jesus, I just want to drink. Also simultaneously punch things and rub my vagina on them.
For not really liking Christmas, I have an astounding amount of holiday-themed lingerie
Im selling my dirty underwear to pay for that cruise. NO JUDGEMENT . I love you lol ❤❤ also dont tell anyone
Im gonna start dry humping the manequins and see if i get fired.
Randomize
