remember when she hit me with her car by accident, well apparently it wasn't an accident.
hey, what are you doing? my roommates are gone for the night... you should come over ;)
nah, i'm gonna grab some food
So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
ive come to the point where weve hung out more times sober than drunk. i think im growing up. fuck.
we weren't quite sure what was on that mirror, so we snorted it and hoped for the best
then he asked me if i wanted to "handle his wingman"
He told me that if his bed could talk, it'd write a medical journal. Guess it's too late to worry about that now.
last nights episode of shot friends brought to you by polish vodka and flamingo baseball. pickles cure hangovers.
Based on the fact my iPad is covered in pizza, I'm going to assume I ate pizza last night
I actually have to watch Breaking Bad to make me feel better about my choices last night.
You can't talk like Dr. Evil to me five minutes after the greatest orgasm of my life.
When Ben was deep throating pickles last night I actually reconsidered our relationship
Sometimes I refuse to go through a door until someone holds it open for me because I'm a fucking lady.
The highlight of my week is I found some hetero porn I didn't completely hate. Branching out.
if my 20s were a chapter in my autobiography, it would be called "the room is spinning and my hands smell like dick"
Randomize
