Remind me to tell you the Scottish bar story tomorrow
Remind me to tell you it was a shitty story when you're done telling it tomorrow
The crowing achievement of my life is still the time I made a 3 course meal out of things I found in the dumpster.
Great. My funeral dress now smells of smoke and disappointing sex.
It's ok I'm watering my plants with a 40 in my camelback, people are staring
this is a reminder to untag myself in the picture of me flashing the photographer in the morning.
On the back of that comment, I've formed a theory that as a result of my brainwashing your drunk self actually believes that beards are your calling.
I feel like I have two modes: Super fuckin high, or super giddy from caffeine. I have learned to accept this.
Ps I got my nipple pierced. You're just gonna have to accept me for the tool I am and I don't wanna hear any shenanigans.
I went home with a guy last night because he showed me some magic tricks and kept shouting "THEY'RE ILLUSIONS MICHAEL!"
He just showed up with a bottle of wild turkey a half a can of coke and some marshmallows yelling "gobble gobble bitches" my roommates hate my cousin
he could've at least fucked me twice. that's just common courtesy.
Trying to put a fitted sheet on drunk is one of the boss levels of slutty adulthood.
We always have to do something together that tests the human limits of the body. Hopefully it has at least a 75% death rate.
Sorry for prompting a philosophical penis discussion at 10:45 on a Friday night.
He fucked me so hard my hair extensions fell out
Randomize
