I'm questioning the dried chocolate syrup on my tits.
I have to keep checking she's breathing. This is why we don't drink on Sundays
Long story short, the rash from your last birthday party told me not to go to this one.
Don't lose. A little bit of my soul dies every time a beer pong game is lost.
Is it 3pm? Or am I losing my mind because it's pickled in vodka and diet coke?
the only way I will be happy is if my gallon spiderman bucket is full of either popcorn, nutella and peanut butter, or fried rice. CHOOSE WISELY.
Considering adding a large amount of vodka to my tomato cup-a-soup at work. Save me.
Not only did I get beyond cray cray this weekend. My body has nursed itself to plentiful and impeccable health. Fuck you world, I am back.
I promised him we could have sex if he would let me take him to the hospital to get stitches.
I am on top of a rooftop peeing on your freedom
I know, it's just the worst. Also, security almost took the burrito I brought for lunch. I thought I was going to have to pull a Liz Lemon and eat the whole thing before I could go through.
His friend still there? Be like "I need to see both of your dicks ASAP"
The guy that stalks me just looked out his window and saw me in his neighbor's hot tub. Get your shit ready the fraternity wars are starting.
I swear I get as excited about the sound of a condom wrapper as my cat gets when she's getting a can of food.
I would fuck him just for his dog
Randomize
