home. puking in laundry basket.
Whenever I said your name you screamed polo and did another shot.
I saw you try to drink out of a soda machine at taco bell, don't worry about judging
These hangoverless Sunday mornings are becoming too regular.
I just found my coat check number in my underwear.
I'm fighting fire with fire. When my parents interrogate me about what I was doing last night, I tell them the truth. Every disgusting, awkward detail. I'm 23 now and they need to get used to it.
After so many times of carrying your puked covered clothes home in a bag on a Tuesday morning, you begin to realize that Fucked Up Mondays aren't a real thing.
Yea I saw a friend of yours carrying your limp body somewhere
Yeah, surprised you made it on time this morning. Remarkable, considering 2 hours ago you were pretending to be talking window curtains.
Me and the cabbie are stopping on the way at a sit down restaurant to eat. My life is so sad.
Just found my glass of wine on top of the litter box. Every argument ever is invalid.
Like you know your sex life is in a downward spiral when your best friend offers to sext you from Ireland
Some days you ride the struggle bus. Other days, it gets a flat, the AC breaks, and you run over a bunny.
My mom just asked if I wanted a mimosa when I got out of the bath.
I think everything's gonna be okay.
only 4 hours until nug lovin time
excuse me?
nug lovin. lovin nugs.
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