upper decked the toilet at the restaurant that wouldn't let me pee there yesterday
I'm a terrible person. There are two guys speaking sign language on the metro platform and at first I thought they were drunk and doing a silly dance.
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
How creepy of a mustache can you grow by wednesday night?
I'm writing my will in case I die this week, it'll be saved on my computer under: little 500 death scenario
Lots of rum and cokes. Bartender wore my underwear on his head. Lost my keys. Accidentily started a fight. DC is going to kill me
Luckily my prof thought I was puking from nerves and gave me motivational mini speeches the entire final.
I AM COVERED IN FAKE BLOOD AND REAL CUM. I AM AWESOME
I'll explain later but basically I was feeling dangerous, I'm dressed as Ann Romney and Ann Romney is a bad bitch.
I forgot that places existed where drinking on Sunday is frowned upon. It's just so unreasonable.
You didn't try to help me when I fell on the dance floor. She brought me cupcakes. You're a shitty friend, suck your own dick.
And I must've sleep walked to the fridge cause when I woke up, there I was, balls deep in a fudge pop.
Keep in mind this was 2012... YOLO was a very new concept.
I think vodka/water/skittles totally beats your crystal light mimosas
Sometimes, it’s important to take a moment and kinkshame yourself.
Randomize
