So, I woke up to an empty bottle of scotch and a dead car. The last thing I remember are the strippers being mad at me. Awesome night.
Feels good to be wearing underwear again though...
Plotting your own moral demise should not be this fun
Just threw the poptarts. Sgits boutta go Down. 1 liter of wine
I'm sneaking you alcohol into a hospital. This either says love or "we have a problem"
Why is there a school picture of an 8 year old boy in my pocket...?
Of course drinkings involved. They don't call it alcoholism because we eat too many skittles.
It's like... Even my horoscope knows I had an awkward threesome last night.
It's 11:50 on Friday the 13th. There's a full moon. AND the bride to be just puked on herself while getting a lap dance from a stripper named...wait for it....LUCKY. Is this real life?
It's situations like these that make me climb out of windows
just give up on your dreams and come get shit house drunk with me.
I'm having a hard time eating my sandwich knowing how many different buttholes my hands were in last night.
Dad is celebrating turning 45 by being drunk in a department store before two o'clock.
And for some reason every time I get drunk I just want to tell you that I have a mini secret personal fan club of your dick
I just want you to know you're the worst sister ever.
If this is about me and your ex, it's not my fault she doesn't like men.
Tequila shots and throwing it at a bell.
This is dumb. I'll keep doing it.
Randomize
