She offered to make me a fruit roll up salad for breakfast...I'm not sure if that's the coolest or weirdest thing ever...
On my way home right now. I miss you. let's cuddle. whiskey.
In hindsight, the torn ligament in my knee is probably the fault of the ginbucket and jager bombs starting at 3pm. I guess I'll stop blaming it on you.
The sun is so bright. Whhyyyyy. EYES ARE DEAD.
Yeah. I realized I have a weakness for drugs and I need to move somewhere where I don't know how to find them.
You're gonna judge me.
Howd you sleep with him already
You don't understand, we were on a waffle house. Both of us were absolutely certain we passed out at his place then BAM! Waffle house.
Ran out of plates, so I'm using my sociology notes. Looks like they will finally have a practical use.
Shirley Temple died. We owe it to her to get dirty shirley wasted.
I think the biggest problem with being overhigh is when the kitchen was on fire and I was pointing and laughing and eating rootbeer oreos like it was fucking Ozzfest 2000
I didn't want dick. I wanted spaghetti.
Write this down so you can tell me in the morning. "That bartender needs to be in my mouth."
I texted him back and I am so nervous I may vomit up all of the soup I just ate.
We haven't had hot water in our dorm all weekend. Do you know if there is any other way to wash off shame?
So Blakes coming home... so if youre like fingerbanging the shit out of yourself on the kitchen table...wrap it up
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