We're 3 acts into this drag show and we've already run out of Lady Gaga songs.
Grilled cheese is the best thing. ever. better than boys, and alcohol, and sex, and chocolate, and money. But not really the last two.
I managed to convince my mom that my hickey was a birth mark I have always had. She cried for an hour about being a terrible mother for never noticing it.
The mexican place next the the funeral home has dollar margaritas, our grandfather would want us to act on this... trust me i know.
It wasn't a wasted relationship. I got road-head in an Escalade. I still keep that with me.
Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
Lauren she was gnawing on a dresser. Gnawing. On. A. Dresser.
I figured out why I insisted on leaving my sweater on the ground outside. I smelled it and I'm 97% sure I peed on it last night
he gave me a thermos so I could take my coffee with my on drive of shame. I was unexpectedly grateful...
After the party last night, I dreamt I continued drinking... Apparently my subconscious didn't think I'd had enough...
in a last ditch attempt to make life awkward after i die today i want to be buried naked and have an open casket funeral.
This guy has a theme song for the joints he rolls
I may or may not be setting up an encounter with a foot fetishist just because I'm curious.
I'm more heavily invested in that tequila than you are
Wait, like drink with real Phil. Or Phil, the cat that sometimes lived in your closet in Myrtle Beach?
Randomize
