You need to stop texting me at SEVEN in the morning. It wakes my one night stands up and makes for the awkward talk way too early.
Somewhere in this world my second husband is in 9th grade.
You passed out across the stairs with your feet and arms through the railings so you "wouldn't fall down when you blacked out and no one could get the pizza past you without waking you up". \n\nYou're the smartest drunk I know.
She's legit crying about wanting more sex. Holy shit.
I just got a flashback from Saturday night of you helping me wash my feet in the bar's bathroom.
you took my bottle from me saying i was unprepared for its magical qualities. then you buckled it in the backseat.
i think that after ALREADY drinking that much, the tube shots may have been a bad idea.. i mean afterall, i did wake up and find my cell phone IN the bonfire the next morning.
Marking my student's "don't do drugs" posters while simultaneously texting my dealer, is this what being a grown up is like?
That's why we don't trade sex for Taco Bell. It's called the dollar menu.
At the start of the night I was all 'come at me universe' and three hours later I was ordering an extra large pizza in bed in the dress I had gone out in. Well played universe.
In the middle of our bar crawl last night we stopped to pet dogs at a dog park. who would let a drunk person bet play with their dog???
Sometimes the gods of alcohol choose to take you on a mysterious journey and you just have to go with it
I just want it to be said that I had sex in my Belle dress last night. Classy motherfucker.
So now your dad has seen my tits. You could have told me he was coming by to help paint.
I didn't think you'd be painting the kitchen topless.
I couldn't find a shirt I was willing to ruin.
How did the test come back?
I've never been so happy to have a yeast infection. And i got a free pack of birth control
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