rather than putting your name in guys phones, you just texted 90999 to donate $10 to Haiti and then gave it back to them
my dad is going to jail this weekend
where are we going to get our weed from?
the can pyramid on my head actually reached a decent height before I moved.
Like if I don't roll around in my puke, the night will be a failure.
So I have the hangover from hell, spent all night puking, and there's a septic tank truck parked outside the house literally pumping shit. You win God.
Sober Sundays just aren't working out anymore.
The fairy wings and cowboy hats were not the issue. The bag of cocaine that I held in the air as we drove in the parade might have been.
When they arrested me, they gave me a bracelet with my mugshot and info. When you get one they can be our BFF Bracelets.
I need to get a job that holds me accountable for something. Otherwise I wake upon Monday wondering when the booze store opens and if I still have a boyfriend.
I showed him my toy collection and he goes, "You won't need those anymore," and dropped his pants. I threw the House of Pleasure out last night.
The fact that you walked around talking like Barbie and still got laid amazes me.
I'm not letting you use my bathroom unsupervised anymore. You peed in the sink thinking it was a urinal...
I woke up with a hangover and a man bun. Reached over to drink water and accidentally chugged raspberry vodka. So there's that.
Did you really think putting a napkin over your head would make you giving him a bj less obvious?
I have mastered the art of having sex on monkey bars.
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