apparently my drunken alterego is a lazyeyed bisexual.
my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
I even made an effort to dress like a conservative young lady who doesnt black out and throw up in her bed regularly today.
I kept feeling my boobs..just to make sure they were still there.
You were like pukeahontas last night, you tried to tell us you were okay, then you puked in the garden.
You rubbing siracha on a cat with your feet is the opposite of what I want.
Last night dinner was cinnamon buns and whiskey. At least tonight I had a fajita with my cookies and tequila. I may be a little stressed about these end of semester tests.
We got stuck in traffic in the tunnel while we were smoking weed. We were afraid to air out the car.
Split a bottle of Johnny Walker and then decided to eat a shit ton of peanut butter. That was a rough bed to wake up in
That sounds worse than that time you thought out an entire story of how big bird would kill you
I found you laying in a field of grass near the trail I jog on in the morning like a drunken Bambi.
You stopped loving me for a minute.
You sent me "Is nap," I don't think that really counts as a conversation starter.
What happened last night dude?
YOU SHIT ON MY FUCKING COFFE TABLE THATS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED!!!
I just want to see you and express my feelings in a drunken manner, but in a sweet way like my english accent.
You ran up to my room. I was naked. You refused to leave without drugs. I love you.
Randomize
