It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
Guess what I'm doing tomorrow?
Becoming a productive member of society?
Sam. Come on.
You sent me a text calling me "cunt" while i was in the middle of dumping my bf.
So we're fucking tonight?
Our suitemates are shrooming again. I left a less colorful dress hanging on the door, change before you come in because purple is making Maeve cry.
Mid way while flirting with this super hot chick at the bar, he gets up and says no thanks I'm only 19 and gay just waiting for my buddy to hurry up and get with your friend.
I IMAGINED YOU YELLING SURPRISE WITH JAZZ HANDS. AND I LOVE YOU FOREVER
There is a really great story behind the missing Coco Puffs and vodka mystery
I'm not so good at organized events that don't revolve around whiskey or playgrounds.
I just did a line of coke with an Olympic bronze medallist. I guess we know why he only got bronze.
I just puked in my courtyard and dripped toothpaste in my chest hair. You better be getting laid or this drunk is wasted.
The only people allowed to make me cry are myself and Chris Hemsworth as Thor. And me.
Omg there's puke under my pillow. Clearly I puked and tried to hide it. From myself. \n
He's a douche. But I like the way he chokes me.
Or is it distressingly heterosexual?
He ate me out in the warehouse on a pallet of sunlight soap. I fucking love night shift!
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