ok plan lets look hot and dance like whores.
Her bacne/racne was so bad it was like having sex with bubble wrap.
He told me that he wishes our relationship was more like prison: less touching, more butt sex.
There are two people having sex in one of the showers right now trying to silence their orgasm sounds and failing. Thank you coed bathrooms.
I think I'm drunk. That wine was old. I found it behind the water heater next to the mouse poison.
I can't feel my brain.
Monday: I just need a drink Tuesday: OMG no more this week! Wednesday: oh shit how'd I get drunk Thursday: I'm glad you've stopped the pretenses
Highlight of the night was you walking into the men's room yelling "My husband is diabetic" and crawling under the stall to yell at me.
I was late because I helped this old romanian lady mow her lawn at 2AM.
Dropping the entire last roll of TP into the toilet is a hurt you don't want to know.
After the party last night, I dreamt I continued drinking... Apparently my subconscious didn't think I'd had enough...
Last week in my political science paper I quoted the Mighty Ducks. This week, I compared the Constitution to a weird pickle law in Connecticut (by law, it's not a pickle unless it bounces). So, yeah, clearly I'm ready to be back to being a college student.
I met my future husband in an elevator. Think Hispanic version of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew from the Muppets, but with eyes like Michael Fassbender.
So baked. About to eat a calzone then hate fuck this guy.
THAT'S MY GIRL
Now I don't feel like I'm sweating cheeseburger all the time.
So like if I threw up in my purse is that "don't ever show your face in public again" worthy or just slightly frowned upon
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