I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
I can't breathe out the right side of my face
I think I just met the technical qualifications for binge drinking in five minutes
Things we need. Powerade. Water in fridge. Mixers for vodka. And reality checks.
I vaguely remember walking down the highstreet with a plate of K offering lines to passers buy. I sold a line to a taxi driver.
I don't know how I feel about the stuff we got from that guy. Me and Monty are driving through town listening to static at full blast...
Also, even though this really sucks now, we will look back on this one day and laugh at the time we all got arrested on Thanksgiving
I haven't been this unsober in a long time. I feel like I am observing myself. Like I am a test subject for alcohol. I wish my brain would shut up and let me be a normal drunk.
Just from watching vine I come to conclusion that all pornstars are dog hoarders.
Yo making cake in the shape of a penis is no easy feat
The cop busted in, made the music stop, and goes "GUYS LISTEN UP! DRINK, DO DRUGS, HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX, I DONT GIVE A FUCK, JUST QUIET DOWN!" Best. Cop. Ever.
just because i'm not a monk anymore doesn't mean I need to tell you about my new sex life.
which is fantastic by the way.
its like i just tried to scrub the hangover off of me.
Lucky bitch I'm at work covered in Jeff pee. And my hair smells like beer because I was trying to prove a point about PBR serving multiple purposes.
Relationship goals: we both wore red underwear tonight. Except he won’t know because my bra been off but it’s the thought that counts I guess.
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