i wrote her a fucking poem. i better get laid for that
I may have pooped in your shoe. or somewhere else in your closet. its unclear.
i'm sitting in the second floor bathroom drinking coronas in the shower. do not find me.
I don't know what's happening. Everyone is wearing beaks.
All I need is the Internet and a place to drink.
I just told a kid I was in a wheelchair because Santa shot me due to me being on the naughty list. You should have seen this little bastards face
I thought you just gave him blowjobs and he criticized your drug use.
Fortunately for myself I'm twice as smart and half as drunk as everyone else. All things considered I'm leaving here three-to-five times richer than when I arrived.
I went in the closet and cried, then the bathroom and cried, and lastly he showed me his penis and I cried. It was a weird night.
Casually on the bus at 830 in the morning with a box of cheezits and a bottle of fireball sticking out of my purse....
She said pants are for pussies while spooning peanut butter onto her frosted flakes with a serving spoon. She's not even high yet.
It's twenty thirteen and the rando and I bonded over the fact that we're both stil using flip phones. Of course I fucked him in the bathroom. It was the obvious thing to do.
After you puked in the bathtub you claimed you were never eating quesadillas again and you never even ate a quesadilla
Pooled our money and rented a bouncy castle for the day. Get over here now. Bring vodka.
The text I got from my boyfriend this morning: "babe, I'm not mad because I know you were drunk, but you kissed 3 guys last night and I wasn't one of them".
Randomize
