please tell me I'm in your upstairs bedroom. Just google mapped myself and I have no idea where I am.
no more stoned jack in the box. this is the third night in a row.
It all came flooding back to me: there was a woman with one hand
I'm torn. Shes everything I ever wanted, but I just cant get past the story about having drunken sex with her dog in high school.
she told me her two favorite things were grocery stores and dick.
So, you didn't have time to come pick me up but you did have time to get plastered and then write "champagne money" on every one of my statuses for the past month?
But I thought everyone had breakup sex?
Next person that gets my dog drunk is paying to have my carpet cleaned. I am tired of getting up to pee and stepping in dog barf.
Realistically anyone can come I don't care it's Boston what do I own boston? No. I just don't want people who are gonna give me "why are you doing that" kinda look when I take birthday shots out of my birthday babe shot glass necklace.
Concert was great. Tackled the lead singer. Met him afterwards. He was cool about it.
I love being high. The owl outside stopped who-ing and I could swear I just heard someone say, "Okay, that's a wrap!"
You just kept yelling and saying, "IM NOT GOING TO STOP YELLING UNTIL YOU TAKE THAT SHOT"
My pants are like a grocery bag containing ONLY jelly beans right now.
If I die, let him know that his penis was the last penis I saw. And I'm happy about that.
You kept licking me last night.... and said I tasted like jello. Next time, lay off the jello shots, okay?
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