He's sobering up. It was really bad for like 45 minutes. He cried while telling me how he pictured us eating hotdogs on the beach together.
I dont think yelling "Grab your dicks, time for pics!" helped your case either.
Actually, considering the facts that I am wearing a duct tape dress and eating a gas station quesadilla, I am pretty good.
You refused to get in the cab so we rock paper scissored to decide who walked you home and the fat guy was it. So don't blame your poor hook-up choice on me; it was all you.
1. Are there men involved 2. Is there food involved 3. Do I have to put pants on 4. Do I have to leave this bed
Just call Katie. She's like the drunk whisperer; she can get them to do anything.
It was an "I snuck in through the window at 5am with my underwear in my pocket" kind of night.
I'm in too deep with Breaking Bad. I realized I've altered my Tinder likes to people that either look like Jesse or work in a school's Science department.
I would use the term shit faced but I'm too polite for that
I may watch porn and eat a baked potato covered in chili in bed
I hate when pubes grow back. My mons is a warzone.
Imma go take shower so I can cleanly change into my drinking underwear.
Accidentally drunk dialed my mom last night. Started the conversation with "Where you at girl?"
you're now officially the 3000 mile booty call. congrats.
why the hell are you crying over taco bell?
Randomize
