If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
organizing the empties. That sober.
im proctoring the SATs right now and im still drunk from last night. i really wanna tell these kids that this fucking test doest mean shit and they will just be constantly drunk once in college.
If you're trying to subtly tell me that I look like Connie Chung, just stop it. I already know.
Remember when I got my car stuck in my backyard?
I just ate powdered extacy out of my wallet. I think I might have for a second of my reasonable life been on your level.
If you're in the liquor store 5 minutes before close, and you have to ask the cashier for a coin to flip to make a life decision because "vodka takes you to a bad place," you need to reevaluate your life.
So I've been thinking about this, and I've decided my bed is magic. Every time I change the sheets, a new boy is in my bed. I own the Sheets of Dreams-if I change them, they will come.
What happened to my knees?
You ate shit in front of the homeless people. They applauded.
I woke up this morning and the lid to the back of my toilet was missing. Dahfaq do I do with this shit?
I had so much stripper lotion and body glitter on my glasses I had a hard time driving home.
Was asked out on a date tonight on Linked In. That creepy genius at apple that touched my butt one time in the back stairwell. I thinks it's fair to say I've hit rock bottom.
I think my liver has finally had enough and is going all Ashley-Judd-in-a-Lifetime-movie on me.
They are like untrained puppies reaking havoc on a newly furnished house. Out of control.
You just compared our vaginas to a newly furnished house...I can dig it.
We had a pink drink in honor of my underwear and apparently I made out with our bartender... a few times
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