4:25 am: I want you here. Ugh.
Doo rag and shades in the bar. You are missing your future husband.
perhaps when you are drinking red wine from a tall glass with a straw it is time to call it a night.
I was just on craigslist and saw and ad for a naked yoga instructor. I will no longer be jobless.
UPDATE: lighting the grill with Bacardi. Haven't slept. Forgot the hamburger buns. Almost out of our eighth handle.
I guess I just laid down next to him with the entire pot of mac n cheese and started giving him a handie with one hand and eating with the other
you might as well be a hobo. you were covered in pee last night hanging out on the stairs drunk.
right. well we all have our lows.
I've grown it out to 70s proportions. I'm calling it my chastity pelt.
Well sort of got busted by a cop while having sex outside, so your call
YOU HAVE BEEN BAD TOUCHED BY THE LEPRECHAUN OF CHOICES
If I could go one week without being called a maneater or a spanish trolip that would be great.
You go to class with the flu but don't go when it rains... Get your shit together
Great... now even my dreams are making fun of me
I am 11 times too hungover to give the eulogy
I expected my Sunday morning walk of shame dressed as a sexy Dorothy would get some scorn, but nobody seems to even care
That’s because it’s 2020. The slutty costume walk of shame is a refreshing reminder of a time when wearing masks and catching communicable diseases was a right of passage, not everyday for the foreseeable future.
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