I drank like a thousand beers last night and my poo is solid, not gross like usual. I think this means I've grown up.
My Vagina smells like Nemo again.
I always know the weekend is over when the real license comes out and the fake goes back into the hiding spot.
My shirt is ruined. If I ever get the idea of doing a tequila shot through my nose ever again, shoot me.
You're gonna die alone anyway. Even if you do meet a man, they die earlier than women. Best case, you have to deal with grieving over his death and then die alone a couple years later. Worst case, you get a terminal illness and he divorces you, leaving you to die alone anyway.
Thanks, mom.
I may be new to bar life, but full on grabbing my vag shouldn't happen...anywhere.
I just don't know about this life anymore. Quite frankly I think I belong up there in the great blue, lounging on a cloud sippin tea with Jesus
Today's hangover is a "wear sunglasses while pooping in the dark" kind of day
Queso dip and pictures of Daniel's penis. It's like the last days of Rome over here.
Robert just walked in drunk, grabbed my Jameson from me, told me to let him do his thing, and spilled it all over the coffee table. Then he told me to grab a funnel because he was going home.
But you can't tell me I give the best blow jobs and then not break up with your girlfriend who has fucking TMJ! Come on!
The entire state will know me by my boobs.
I refuse to plan drunken casual sex. Just think of the monster I'd create.
He gave me an extra phone charger for the other side of the bed the other night. Is that love?
I hate her so much I want to fuck her boyfriend.
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