you came home covered in oatmeal wearing a tutu holding a stolen wrotting pumpkin and "its a girl" balloons tied around your neck.you were whispering the lyrics to aaron carters 'aarons party'. i think the real question was what DIDNT you drink last night
you didnt remember my name all night. you kept referring to me as "the blonde with the fat ass"
You do realize that we bought beer at 9:30 in the morning to avoid sobering up. Stupidity was bound to follow.
I have sand in every orifice, there are bruises everywhere, and I smell like a distillery. I love summer.
It all boils down to, who else do we know that is willing to buy our friendship?
I was dressed in monkey onesie serving people vodka jelly with a spoon...
Beer is acceptable at 830am if it's your bday, right?
My night can be summed up in 3 words: Vodka. Threesomes. Hospital.
Can we just cry and dive into a couch-sized bag of sadness-chips, dip them in a la-z-boy sized jar of depression salsa while watching a show called 'Forget Your Hopes and Dreams, Just Kill Yourself'?
She was from Wisconsin, she had great boobs... I mean... It's a dairy state....
Hung out near hay bales in sweaters then she gave me a pumpkin spice pop rocks bj. That was so freakin' seasonal.
I love how encouraging you are, but I need you to stop me when the guy I'm going home with is a dead ringer for Nick Cage.
It's a sad day when a deadly hurricane headed your way is less depressing than your relationship status.
Tomorrow has nothing to do with the threesome
I am the one with the vagina. I get to call it.
I've never had to say don't judge me for chip clips in the shower before
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