so I was just driving high and I stopped to let a pinecone cross the road because I thought it was a hedgehog.
So he says "lean over this" which is a chain across the doorway, held into the wall with bolts. I do. Then he puts his weight on top of me to try and get it in.
It breaks. We fall.
I now have a broken nose, a concussion, and an infected, split lip. Why do I have the worst luck in guys?
My face smells like last night's lay. I need a whore bath. Or a corndog.
I vaguely remember taking a shit behind the shed before I started puking over the fence. No more Xanax.
I wonder if she thought to herself "I'm gonna sleep with that guy tonight" when she watched me puke on the bar at 3 in the afternoon?
At what point during this road trip should I let them know I've been drinking in the backseat the whole time and can't take my turn driving?
You screamed "there will be blood" and punched some random guy in the face. So no, we can't go back to that bar.
Letting two friends screw at my place in exchange for weed. This is my life.
If it's up to me, I'll already have my pants on and walking out before he gets soft afterward.
My sister texted me to say she just found a corn on the cob in her purse from last night. You need to party with us more.
Hello my rib-scented angel!
He was more upset that I got into his phone than about getting caught cheating.
Hey, I'm just seeing how you're doing and letting you know I fucked your dad last night. Don't fuck with me.
I described my life as a 7 layer cake of death
I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, which includes naming your schlong
Randomize
