last night i told the bartender i only have 3 days left to live so i wouldnt have to pay for drinks
this morning i woke up with a nothing but a pair of what i believe are fairy wings on - and the bartender in my bed
he thinks ill be dead by monday and still came home w me.. WTF?
messed up. what color are the wings?
you're thinking of things to pack this weekend and you think Don King wig?
she used her one phone call to ask me about my day
apparently i'm the only person who has heard from her since saturday. she texted me "burt reynolds" at 2am sunday
I'm calling into work with a wicked case of sledge hammer crotch. She has to understand
Something's wrong. Everything's on fire. Unless it was like that before. Then everything's alright.
Hurry up. Some creepy guy with a "God is vengeful" flyer is asking where I wanna go most today. I think he's going to chop me into pieces.
the bad thing about being great at twerking is that I'm powerless to stop myself from doing it when I'm drunk and in public.
Maybe. I want to have sex at the fire station, most likely on one of the trucks. I wonder if I can finagle that before I tire of the spelling and grammatical errors in his texts.
You can't just walk around stealing hats from drunk boys and peeing in bathtubs. Turn down.
THE EAGLE HAS MY PANTIES. I REPEAT. THE FUCKING MASCOT HAS MY PANTIES.
HOLY SHIT. You're my hero.
If he would've shaved his beard when we first broke up, getting over him would've been so much simpler. That asshole.
Not sure but if it exists I will find it and I will fill my face with it
somehow I wound up on the floor crying about his beard. then telling everyone I'd give him a "lesbian blowjob".
If you find out what that means, show me.
how did i manage to wake up with my bra on backwards?
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