My bracket is officially just a list of teams that lost.
First date. He's wearing a tuxedo shirt and keeps asking me about our future children. Escape plan #3 is now in action...
Wow, I just sneezed gum out of my nose. Wonder how long that's been up there.
i mean, we fucked on the futon in the garage where his band practices. pretty sure im now obligated to like his band on facebook.
no drinking for a week
if by week you mean tonight and by no you means yes
nothing says "you're fucked" like watching a movie with the family and a handle of vodka comes crashing down from your hiding spot in the ceiling tiles.
I can't even express how horny I am. The English language isn't equipped for what I'm plotting.
My night was too much. My morning is even more. Help. I need to teleport the fuck out of here.
Where are you on a scale from one to wasted?
Like alphabetically I'd say a v
I told him he could fuck me in his Notre Dame jersey if they won and he never texted back. What is this world coming to
One minute we were ordering sandwhiches. The next hes peeing in a trash can yelling at kids about how tv made him this way
she's a drunken disney princess. so basically me if i had a crown and no desire for independence.
Did he hurt you? I have a crowbar I can beat his sorry ass with
Step 1 was make out with him. so now we just need to come up with step 2.
i love discovering the tokens of our drunkenness from the night before. it's like easter egg hunting. today: smashed pizza rolls in the sink.
Randomize
