Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
you know that hot chick that stutters? talk about an awkward orgasm
note to self... there IS such a thing as having too many birthday shots...
I mean, I'd wanted to go skinny dipping, hook up with him and have sex on a beach, so last night I basically killed 3 birds with one super slutty stone.
Im sitting alone watching titanic. Drunk. Without pants. Holding a fishing pole. Im pretty sure im okay with all of this.
Everything in my purse is 100% saturated in red wine, which made it challenging to cover up my booze breath with franzia soaked gum
Our brains have an emergency blowjob override switch. You saw proof tonight.
Not enough. Tell the person next to you to give you their drink. I give you permission. And then chug it. Be a hero tonight.
We had to leave. Dave knocked a dude out for saying yolo.
That point of drunk where you're in a bar bathroom and you're like "F*ck you bra! I'm not taking your sh*t anymore! and you take it off and throw it in a trashcan.
I have vodka soaked strawberries. My latest tarot card reading hinted at a lesbian/bisexual coming out. I doubt I survive the night.
He insisted he brought his alarm clock everywhere, and then the girl screamed "fuck French people!"
possible new low: just washed a permanent marker penis off my cheek with porta-potty hand sanitizer.
also if this is gonna be a sample of how country jam will be, I might as well break up with him now. he spent the night blacked out and I could have been in a three-some.
YOU HAVE TO STOP TELLING BARTENDERS WE DON'T HAVE MORAL STANDARDS
We can have bacon on the roof while tanning
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