the "happy anniversary" cake for my mom and dad is about to turn into the "yeah, that's a hickey, welcome back from italy" cake.
I hate that the only Italian aspect of me is I get red and sweaty when I drink
He's pole dancing on a heat lamp.
there are two kinds of girls in this world: my mom, and sluts.
We pinky-swore to never fuck each other again.
Good news.. I found out what I did Saturday night. Bad news... I found out what I did Saturday night.
It's okay, I climbed on the roof of the bar to get my shoe back. This may become a Saturday tradition. I'll keep you updated
come find me. Outside the bar we were just in waving my syringe in the air
Whenever we go out my brain flips on autopilot, straight to blackout.
I have straight up perfected the art of amazing manicures with shaky-as-fuck adderall hands. Also, I'm way too proud of this.
it's ok my mom asked me why i had a guys shirt on and also why there was chocolate all over my bra
My philosophy is thug life and that means never having to say your sorry for stealing drinks off tables
Like I cant decide if he's like autistic or something or just seriously cock blocks himself on purpose with this shit
He put his number in my phone as Steve handsome
My boobs smell like weed again. This happens way too often.
Randomize
