So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
She gave me a bj in her parent's kitchen while I ate the rest of her mom's birthday cake. Fuck. Yes.
I mean, there was frosting being put on a tunafish sandwich. Pretty sure she knew we were high.
I just made a steamroller out of a christmas ornament. I feel so festive.
Just don't have "pin the tail on the straight edge" as a party game... Please and thanks...
Trumps. I've been wiping my ass with fast food napkins for 3 days.
You can't just call animal control when you're drunk because there is a bug in the shower.
Now in just stoned listening to my dads philosophical idea about public transit
Human centipede...with the teletubbies. That's what my nightmare had in it.
I don't even want to know.
He staggered in with his pants around his ankles and yelled that he lost his pants
I literally cut myself out of my pants. What is my life.
His Instagram is like a gay porn blog all of the sudden got conquered by the Mormon missionary that he is
I have got to stop telling people I was almost a prositute every time I drink
Ugh. My life is a never ending cycle of bad decisions and taquitos.
Weight watchers just said "you've tracked beer three times recently, want to make it one of your favorites?" I'm begining to understand why I needed to go in the first place.
Randomize
