I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
i suspect the closest i'll get to a valentine this year is a 16 year old on chat roulette asking me to show my tits. step up from last year, i guess.
We're having the conversation about what happened last night, all we can come up with is that we came home, drank two litres of lemonade, I took one of her seizure pills and we fell asleep with sabrina the teenage witch on
im downtown. alone. lost. drunk. dressed as santa. dont find me. i just heard someone say mechanical bull.
i just remember sitting on this bed, naked, STILL WITH A CONDOM ON, and suddenly these random girls were in the room shouting at me
she puked as i came inside her. that has to mean something.
Please, take the 2 shots of vodka that I left as an apologie.
Just sharpening my eyeliner with a butterfly knife. You know. Typical weekday morning.
I remember saying your puke looked like a jellyfish and you got very offended.
Just saw a midget on an elliptical. Epic.
I just made a drug deal 100% through snap chat
I don't fucking know. I'm out stimulating the economy. Not locked in a room with a marker board.
Oh at the liquor store again?
Are you texting, crying and driving?
And missing part of my eyebrow. Correct that is the description one would give of me at the moment.
So, my eyeglasses somehow ended up in my nightstand drawer and they're covered in lube.
Why did I wake up next to the fire pit? And who wrapped me up like a burrito?
Jägerbombs. Thank Sara.
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