I just threw up a christmastime peep. I am literally already sick of the holidays.
Every day I regret the life decisions that led me to bank management and NOT being a coke addicted stripper. Every. Single. Day.
I researched the whole pregnancy breast feeding with piercings. I think you dont have to worry about the trifecta milk spraying thing.
She just fell in the river. Meet us downstream with the bottle.
Does hooking up with the gay pledge count as hazing?
I thought she was being abused so tried to go in at the sympathy angle, but the bruises were from pole dancing. I went in at all angles.
Oh man. Realized I was high when I realized how long I'd been watching Roseanne
I vaguely remember Matt shouting something about "GET ON MY LEVEL!" at the bartender before he attempted to order a case of tequila from him.
Only I could host a baby shower where the cops get called.
And tan into my neighbor in the elevator. She was going to the gym. I was covered in mascara and dog hair eating a hash brown
I sent you a snap of me in the bath, and you sent me a snap of a taco. An actual taco.
Hey, it's all about finding the bright side. And boobs are definitely a bright side.
And as drunk as I was I was able to show my mom how to make text italicized in Microsoft word
All I want for Christmas is my co-worker's speakerphone to be thrown against a brick wall, and the remains burned in a backyard fire while I roast a hot dog over it. Is that so much to ask?
The only thing i ask you for is vegan food and sex.
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