Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
you threw up in the bushes next to the ABC store and kept saying "you're home, blueberry vodka, you're home!"
Fuck morning classes. Fuck early work. Fuck anything in the morning that doesn't involve sleeping, sex or bacon.
I replied to the university automated mass text about the armed robbery at the on-campus Starbucks with a sad face. Basically sums up my night.
Yeah, he said he was getting "welcome back Winnipeg Jets drunk" then puked on his jersey.
Smoked Hookah in the playhouse last night. Childhood was so fun.
So I know we're not talking about this anymore buuuuuut I left heel marks on the wall.
Who the fuck superglued glowsticks to my arm.
Totally forgot Mike has only one ball. Is it sad I'm excited to see it? Or shall I say the lack of it?
I'm instituting a new rule. If you wake me up at 3am about wrinkled blankets, I get to throat punch you
I feel like I deserve an award for facing my fear of penises in my face.
I literally just biked home like I was on the last leg about to win the tour du France. Fuck diarrhea
I'm like 80% sure we nearly got arrested because we threw fireworks at a car
FYI: Brian said he left me in the bathroom Friday night to shower and 45 minutes later found me with a towel around my head, my pants on and holding my boobs. No more Jell-O shots for me.
You're never gonna guess who's blood is on my shirt
Why do I feel like I really don't want to hear the end of this...
Randomize
