you might get a letter about the baby you put in me. i was mad when i sent it.
No. No, there is no forgiveness for this. The only way I'm forgiving you for this is if you somehow convince your sister to have sex with me. In her car.
We're in ER. He's high on morphine and I'm drunk. Gonna score some bed pans for jello shots.
I ate cinnamon toast crunch. I'm officially out of the puke zone. Blackout drunk Friday. WHAT IS GOOD.
Apparently she saw two women get in a slapping match over a comforter at target yesterday. She said it was awesome. Clearly I take after her.
It was like the Alcoholic Olympics...double fisting fifths with eight 40s in my backpack...running from the cops in stilettos. I will have bitchin' hamstrings come Monday.
Saturday evening, however, will be my vodka and bubble wrap extravaganza.
I may or may not be negotiating a deal of baked goods for socks...keep you posted
When you get up and look at yourself in the mirror, don't be alarmed. The doctor assured us last night that it looked way worse than it actually was and there won't be a scar when the stitches come out
IF IT WALKS LIKE A MANWHORE AND QUACKS LIKE A MANWHORE, HE PROBABLY HAS VD.
Then years and years after that I will send you a picture of my warped vagina from all the kids that I had.
Not even official and he's cleaned my puke twice. His hotdog skills are an added bonus. I've got a keeper
My hand smells like rave and peanut butter.
My joke about liking my coffee like I like my men IS ABOUT TO COME TRUE.
Do you recall asking me to zip line through your wedding dressed as a bleeding angel?
Randomize
