Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
He was passed out on the floor holding a beer can, rolled over switched hands and never spilled a drop. We need to practice.
A picture just appeared on facebook. I am puking in the toilet, you are next to me puking in the sink. I think we have our christmas card.
We don't need a hotel, we'll just sleep in the post office.
Im covered in vodka and melted gummys. Fuck summer.
just found out they live across the street from coke dealers... rethinking the new years resolution
Just found the cutest bag of coke under my bed. I'm going to get fucked up and bleach the cat vomit out of my sheets.
Pretty sure the cab driver can even smell the sex coming from between my legs
Come over we're celebrating the one month anniversary of her first 4/20
We're all getting matching jack daniels tattoos. We're gonna be an alcoholic gang of awesome.
Why the hell did you invite him? He's gonna bring two more inches of dick and zero fun.
The party invite said "this ain't no lame stoplight party, you come to hookup or you don't come" I feel like their honesty deserves out attendance
Not to mention having our pick at the ensuing sausagefest
I am naked and annoyed.
I can't tell if this is a hangover or just a perfect combination of shame and regret
Im blaming it on six shots of Jack, loneliness and a chemical imbalance. That's the best I can think of...
Randomize
