Gonna be late. Someone jumped in front of our train.
Taking my final with a coffee mug full of keystone... best semester ever.
The only piece of furniture in the apartment is a wine rack.
It's okay. My lingerie drawer is skanky enough for the two of us. Even across borders.
The last text I sent him was about nachos. Frankly, if he can't respond positively to that he can fuck off...
You are a piece of meat with a side of awesome to me.
He asked if I had feelings for him while I was lying naked on the floor vomiting into a trashcan as he held my hair and fed me Pringles.
You know you have done too many drugs when you gum the sugar off your margarita without even thinking twice
I don't think he cares about your inhospitable uterus.
The last thing I remember is him yelling from across the room "WE FINISHED THE HANDLE!"
It was 11pm.
She used my 100 Ways To Cope With Stress handout to wipe puke off her face
Why would you waste your Ritalin on your children?
My last memory of last night was being in a laundry room doing blow and admiring a washer and dryer... I think that's the earmark of old age
The last time I saw you you got angry and yelled "WHISKEY DOESNT COUNT" ... I think that's at least a 7 on the hotmess scale.
IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO DRIVE 3 HOURS FOR BIRTHDAY SEX.
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