I woke up this morning really drunk with my Christmas lights on and two owls in my bed.
burritoes are like sleeping bags for ground beef
The stories of what you did in Cuba got home before you.
Um, yeah. You lit my birthday candles with a joint. Mom= not happy.
you threw up into the pocket of your shirt. which was pretty damn polite
well, I yelled "the tribe has spoken!" at a boatload of people and then I walked home alone in the pouring rain at 1:30am. karma really is a bitch, yo.
I imagine I kinda look like a banana with one boob out.
I passed out in all my clothes. like my purse too..and with a cup of water next to me..and my last tweet last night was "Bye."
I am sending my doctor an XXXMas card thanking him for my tits!
so is it socially acceptable to send her an "i got my man back you whore" card?
I'm doing the walk of shame into my therapists office wearing his clothes...I guess go big or go home
He lured me round with the prospect of sex and then made me proofread his CV and spoon. I fucking hate this guy.
You faceplanted on the railroad tracks and when I tried to tell you to get up, you told me you were "taking a quick breather"
so I just realized.. of my 70k student loan debt, most of it went toward bar tabs, eightballs, and sweet-ass ties to wear to gamedays and other people's weddings. I think about shit like this while I'm at my mid-level management position. you know. "working."
Look upon your future, America, and despair.
I left you a really long drunk voicemail and I remember something about a bat
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