I got into an eating contest with Christina. I ate 6 oranges.
Why? Who won?
we don't know. we ran out of oranges.
# days @ Coachella: 1 people i showed how to break it down: 279
pube in her braces AGAIN. barely kept a straight face.
Manager just farted into the intercom. Whole place heard it. A number of people stopped everything and looked at him. Best. Night. Ever.
there are two kinds of girls in this world: my mom, and sluts.
No more vodka shots for you. Last night you begged a man on your knees to sell you his beard. He had no beard.
First of all you're supposed to say "you're not fat". And second of all never ever deprive me of nachos.
His name is Dustib. Not a typo. I just can't.
Henceforth: booty calls will now be referred to as "deliveries of anatomy". That is all.
I named my Roomba after my pot dealer. I have a problem, don't i?
His boxer smelled like clean laundry while I was giving him head. It was delightful, like sucking a dick in a spring meadow.
He's a snuggler. Every time I attempt to make a move to find my bra he reigns me in. Needless to say i could be here a while.
Making friends with the guy who had alcohol-infused whipped cream was the best decision I made all night.
Responsible things to do when you're too hungover to get out of bed: Breast self exam.
I'm like a bad decision making factory. I need to sit down and have a chat with my decision making elves.
Randomize
