i'm not a human right now. not even a dancer.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
last time I sleep in the lobby. woke up to some girl asking me what floor I lived on. somebody put me, couch included, on the elevator.
I'm pretty sure I saw a man standing on a table with no shirt on getting sugar thrown at him while "pour some sugar on me" blaring while the cops were in the house.
Also, I've sobered up around 5am, in Delaware. I remember making this decision, and highly regret it now.
We made a bong out of a plastic football. I can honestly say we make a good team.
In anticipation of No Judgement Tuesday, I believe a Can We LOL At What We Did Last Night Saturday is in order
You have plans tonight?
Stress crying into a bottle of long island ice tea mix...other than that nope
we were at work and Infront of the whole bar you yelled. "JAKE I WANNA GET FUCKED TONIGHT!" Us day drinking > everyone else
I found him passed out against a dryer in the girls washroom, in front of an old woman was trying to figure out how to dry her hands.
All I've been thinking about for the past 12 hours is sex and SEAWORLD
she fell asleep in a torn bush after playing cards at a nursing home.
Hmm, peanut butter and Xanax. Next Ben and Jerry's flavor.
Not only do I have a well-defined bite mark on my arm, but I also have a perfectly clear bruise of a handprint wrapped around my arm like a tribal tattoo. Thoughts on how that happened?
just showered sitting down cuz standing seemed like too much work, thursdays need to stop making me their bitch.
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