Oh no, it isn't official until she poops.
What's the point in getting all dressed up and going when i'm just gonna throw up on myself by midnight?
We got blackout for the alumni dinner, and then walked THROUGH the keynote speaker, managing to still say "excuse me".
Besides, I'm not in my 30's. I'm still allowed to drink wine from a bag.
At least you weren't that one girl in the bar that was letting everyone draw on her in sharpie. Worst decision I've ever witnessed.
I think she must be bulimic. I mean, every time I see her I know i want to throw up.
I can't believe I had to sit there pretending to play Halo with a condom on for 20 Minutes because your brother barged in to tell a story.
He also turned out to be underage (the fucking liar) so we had to get drunk on cooking sherry
I went home with a guy last night because he showed me some magic tricks and kept shouting "THEY'RE ILLUSIONS MICHAEL!"
I just figured out the time exactly by how many shots and beers that I've had since this morning. I either have a terrible problem, or a great solution.
Man. Apparently I blacked out between the 4th margarita and my air mattress. Asleep in my jeans at 10pm. Mom outdrank me again.
That was so not worth putting pants on for.
He referred to our sex as "an Olympic event." My tits are bruised.
I woke up with a giant paw print on the side of my face, my jaw hurts, and I have no idea how any of this happened.
I just upped my southern womanhood. Taking whiskey and Kleenex pocket packs to the funeral.
Randomize