only if we run a train.
done.
I blacked out, fell off a swingset, and thought I was Liz Lemon for almost an hour.
I put the beer in my little red riding hood basket.
So theres a slight possibility i may not graduate according to planned because i was out getting laid instead of studying. And im okay with that.
it was like brushing your tongue but with a fucking long toothbrush.
drunk tastebuds have low standards.
I just had to ask my dad for money to pay for my birth control. I've hit financial rock bottom.
I'm crying, drinking alone and applying for jobs tonight. I figure the alcohol will lower my job standards.
You took photos of my underwear around London the day after! THAT was too soon.
It takes a special kind of man to fart REALLY loudly right before entering a woman and still get some. This has been a state of bootytown address.
I think there's an ice cream truck out back, but there's no way I can get pants on in time to catch it
I had to dig my own trench to puke in at the resort. That much fun.
But lunch with my dad really just means an hour and a half of him telling me how he's disappointed and how he knows I'm on drugs
I did not pay that kind of money so that It could be hidden. that bra needs to shine in glory so that it can be seen by the world.
We're at an agreement where I don't pry and she pretends blissful ignorance
Randomize
