im as drunk as the barefoot contessa. GET TO MY LEVEL
dude. stop pregaming the food network.
a woman just threw her tv out the window while screaming "will you fucking work now?". i'm never moving
just threw up in the bushes outside my lecture hall. sometimes i hate the freedom college gives you.
We just filmed our own version of iron chef. The secret ingreient was whisky.
What did you cook with whisky?
We started a fire.
Me+graduation party+hammered drunk+polish horseshoes in the dark= black eye, crying, pissed, passed out in my dress... How was your weekend?
My getting drunk and marrying a stranger in Vegas final court annulment papers just came in the mail... I might frame that shit
8:30 every morning in the third floor bathroom we fuck in the handicap stall. You have your morning workout and I have mine.
It was the best of bangs; it was the worst of bangs.
While running home from the bar in high heels I multi- tasked and sexted with Brent. Jesus.
Before he comes over remember the house standards. Ask yourself "will he stalk my sister or myself in the future?". If the answer is yes, then no, he isn't allowed.
I'm beer bonging chocolate fondue. That's how my Valentines Day is going.
And i'll likely end up sleeping in a bush wrapped up in my poncho
He added his name to my To Do list. That's the way to my Type A heart.
It just makes me feel nauseous. And I don't want to feel nauseous when all I really want is to get off.
"We hooked up and in the morning he emailed me his mix tape"
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