how the fuck am i supposed to make breakfast with spaghettios and mustard
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.
First order of business is dropping my 9 am gym class. I'm sweating pure vodka.
I just want you to know that were having pizza delivered to the emergency room
My mom made me write an apology letter to all my family for hijacking the eggnog.
I am three bowls, two beers, and a muscle relaxer into babysitting. What are you doing.
My body is being held together with whiskey, nicotine, duct tape and a little bit of hope...
It's a lightpost hitting you in the head. Of course it's going to hurt the day after.
Dude. Yeah. This is a game changer. I feel dirty and possibly pregnant and it hasn't happened yet.
I found him in his pink and white boxer out side the dorm hall and the only thing he said was "it wouldn't let me in"
I just need a fucking pair of pants. Is that too much to ask for?
You told me I got kicked out of the bar for lipping off to the bouncers... what shocked me the most was that I made it to the bar
We couldn't leave for the bar until he spent 10 minutes adjusting his vaporizer. I want to drown him in beard oil.
All I know is that I got to have an orgasm yesterday during sex so nobody can put a damper on my day, NOBODYYYYYY
Don't let me pee the bed... Its going to be one of those weekends
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