Hes a 32 yr old divorced sailor that calls me almost every night drunk begging me to call him big daddy. I think i might need to change my number.
My life is like a Sweet Valley High book but with lots of alcohol.
This is why I'm not putting my name in lights over your bed.
I'm really tired of cleaning up my twitter the morning after
I don't remember his name but he sat in the bathroom and gave us both advice...
do not give him the "i just had sex cake" i repeat DO NOT give him the cake. things didn't go well
And with me just getting pulled over and you maxing your card out on tennis balls I don't know if we can afford it
I paid some man $10 for his shirt last night cause I liked it. Explains that. Bought the jackolope head from a street vendor. Got invited to someone's hotel rooftop swimming pool which explains why I was in my bathing suit. My clothes from last night are MIA. Going over the border with no pants on is awkward. Origins of the car rim still mysterious.
Seriously? What part of meeting at Oktoberfest while I'm wearing a dirndl, double fisting, and making out with random guys screams "i'm girlfriend material"?!
I walked from the hotel to the club with a pint of tequila in my boot. Poured some in a homeless woman's mouth when she asked for change. I've hit rock bottom.
After so many times of carrying your puked covered clothes home in a bag on a Tuesday morning, you begin to realize that Fucked Up Mondays aren't a real thing.
It's embarrassing enough people in my life are aware of the ridiculous things that happen to me. I don't think we need to get the whole world involved.
You called my nipples compassionate. What does that even mean?
No like he has curves. I remember thinking he had a nicer body than me
their motto was "the first one to get arrested wins" so of course today was interesting
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