I could've eaten a live cat and wouldn't remember it today. That level of drunk.
I am nonfunctional stoned. I had to ask ben to put me somewhere away from all the people I'm sitting on someones bed watching a wall. Not alright. Should not have come.
Don't lose. A little bit of my soul dies every time a beer pong game is lost.
I'm trying not to drink. I may fall down if I move. This is bad. I had everclear before the bar. Oh no. Oh no. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Please. I don't care how shitty his fake life story was. As horny as I was I just wanted the prettiest man possible in case I accidentally got pregnant. He had blue eyes.
I renamed his cat Jeff last night. Well I spray painted it on him.
Went to bed with a bowl of spaghetti O's on my chest, I make my own breakfast in bed. New level of laziness
Well his arms broken so they only cuffed his good wrist to his belt. That's how he cast smacked me in custody.
Yeah, but he has adorable dimples and dimples talk me into things.
exhale infront of a fan. self shotgun.
They had to stop us from skinny dipping in the reflection pool of the Mormon temple.
SUNS OUT COOCHY OUT
I couldn't find any flowers so I brought her a cat.
I woke up this morning to my panties draped around the neck of an empty bottle of bulleit. That is the perfect visual metaphor for my life at this juncture.
Nothing like having a family watch you dry heave at the end of the dock
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