We played Rock, Paper, Scissors last night to see who was the least drunk to drive.
The Rock won.
apparently when i got back to tyler's i layed face down on the bed and yelled "don't hurt my asshole!"
we sang an acapella version of barbara ann to his voicemail...i'm not drinking again until tuesday.
I'm at a job interview and I smoked a little before I came. I thought it would make me less nervous. Boy was I wrong.
no guy is ever going to take you seriously as a potential marriage prospect unless you learn to swallow
DOWN HORMONES. BACK.
Mr. Clingalot just ran from our apartment. What the hell?
I started to cry afterward and mumble random things. Examples: "God, please don't make me be so gay anymore" and "my mom is going to be so proud of me for fucking a dude this time." It was that or let him stay the night and cuddle. I mean, fuck that horrible shit I'm a girl that needs her space.
He came over to use the microwave, said he needed to heat up some urine.
We found you facedown on his couch in a pile of cheerios, with only one shoe on. Dude you said you were staying in last night.
Your biggest crisis right now is that you can't decide whether to keep hooking up with AN NFL PLAYER or try to rekindle your relationship with your ex. You are a walking white girl problem.
CODE RED CODE RED MY VIBRATOR IS BROKEN THIS IS NOT A DRILL
Hold on I'll be right there, I can't find my arm.
Lies! You took my virginity, and now my cigarettes!
You kept singing "your gonna lose that girl" to him right in front of her.. of course you got punched in the face.
Hey this is your roommate. You know the one that let you have sex with her while you called out your exs name and cried?
I have no recollection of that. You must have the wrong number. P.s. your thongs still on the ceiling fan.
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