Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I called the bar to ask if they found my Id and credit card and they remembered me as 'the girl who signed her receipt in blood'
I puked for half an hour, but I went and danced afterwards, and that made me feel better.
You are so irish.
i dont even know how to be here
Literally been drinking for 10 hours. Hammered. Roasted chestnuts fell out of my shirt earlier.
we put a pacifier in your mouth because you kept drunkenly singing country music.
His penis makes me feel like a mystic dragon sliding down a turbo slide covered in white gumdrops and sour cashews
Same.
It's a never ending cycle of men I've fucked knowing other men I've fucked. I need a new town.
You won't wear your Santa suit, I can't get trashed, and you won't use handcuffs! This is the worst Christmas EVER.
Holy fucking shit the worst thing for a hangover ever--A FUCKING BOLLYWOOD MOVIE BLARING IN CLASS
No more stories ab the wkend for co-workers... No one else found "and I didn't have pants on when I got home Saturday night" as funny as I did.
That's the kind of activity you can only get away with by wearing a lion codpiece
I mean I'm not gay but a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks
I was told to keep my leg elevated. I assume it means to keep my legs on the air, it's like I was prescribed to be slutty
they saw the dick pic he sent and started calling him 'subway'
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