its not stalking. its research.
lesson #67 learned in college: a three day old margarita, is still a margarita.
I thought I had fell out of his trailer but he says I tried to ninja kick his TV stand saying those girls hula hooping were trying to seduce him. There wasn't anyone else there.
There's a hand-carved wooden bong in my backpack, and i really wish i could remember last night now.
Fuck men. I'm going to go eat a package of cookie dough and get fat. I hope I die of salmonella.
I want an alcoholic time machine so we could skip to new years eve
My day may involve a drug pinata. I LOVE MY LIFE.
She was rubbing her face on the carpet, she was high.
From now on, you must never doubt my ability to go from drunken rambling lovesick girl to Stepford wife within the course of a few hours.
Fuck. I have to get my shit together by lunch. Mission impossible.
I found an inside smoking lounge. I'll be here for the next 4 hours. A nice old Canadian lady has befriended me and let me use her lighter. Fuck Hartsfield-Jackson AND this layover. I win.
We were apparently using marine hand signals to communicate to one another where to meet up in the house to hook up.
Didn't even know I knew marine hand signals.
It's because of weed that I don't mind driving an hour to visit my family. And it's because of you that there's weed in my life. Thank you.
I'VE LOST MY DIGNITY, MY PRIDE, AND EVEN MY BOOTY CALL. HAPPY THANKSGIVING.
Met this british guy. Played pool. Broke into an apartment and had sex
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