I am at a bar watching a rat tail get braided.
Pants on the Ground is the theme song of my life
so it turns out that "condoms galore" does, indeed, come up on your bank statement
I looked at the bar tab this morning. The bartender added a $25 'customer asshole fee'. I have no grounds to dispute it.
Like. There is beer on the other side of that door and 6 yards in. If he's not back in 20 minutes to let me in, I am using this tree as a battering ram.
Just gave a gay guy pointers on how to make anal not hurt. Reevaluation of life choices: in progress.
It's like I'm snorkeling in an ocean of tequila.
And by "hammer out the details" you know I mean spending 20 minutes on wedding plans then getting wine drunk, right?
So the keyword here is "hammered"?
I've got a permanent seat at the "Girls who eat their feelings" table this weekend.
My night can be summed up in 3 words: Vodka. Threesomes. Hospital.
I had a dream last night that I met Diplo. Now I'm just sad
He called my vagina "the man cave", and I found it charming
I'm going to need a penis the size of a bat
Drunk is not a location!
I just had a 30-minute convo with an irrelevant fuckboy from college who decided to tell me FOUR years later he’s sorry for sleeping with 3 girls at once including me.
Randomize
