well. it's seven AM and i'm too high to hula hoop.
woke up rolled in a yoga mat listening to enya. I'm never going back to Oregon ever again.
i don't even want to say how many boners i've caused this week
just found a shoebox labled "emergency smoking box"... it has a lightbulb, 2 potatoes, a dried up flower, and a button that says "stop drop and roll". what did we do last night?!
You just threw your burrito at the passing teenage couple and yelled "It's never gonna last" of course your were a shit show
I peed on his girlfriend's loofah during our post-sex shower.
I'm going to text my booty call and tell him nevermind, that I got the job finished by myself. That will teach him to text back faster.
This lesson is brought you by a psychology class.
The drunk fake out is her specialty. She'll agree to come with us and two seconds later we check to make sure she's still there and we see her booking it down the hall in the opposite direction.
We will go to karaoke
Okay, well, i'm covered in paint, haven't showered & have already been drinking, so if I fall on the floor in a blaze of depeche mode & beer tears, you can't pretend you don't know me
I completely forgot I gave up beer. But airports don't count. They're like international waters. No rules.
You know you turned your life around when your drunk eating salad at 3 am on a Friday night
According to timehop today marks the 3rd anniversary of my 1st blackout
Ick. That's not even the fun kind of punishment.
I know you won't see this for awhile, but I had to tell somebody, and you're like the only person who won't judge me for having an accidental erotic encounter with General Tso's chicken.
It's officially "let him eat me out in a sundress with no panties" season. Needless to say the first date was a success.
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