we're blogging at a bar
I just did the scooter of shame. New levels of embarrassment have now opened.
I bought a fake diamond ring to wear, not only to bars to keep the creeps away, but so that I'll be judged less by the front desk girl at Planned Parenthood
so there is either a lot of blood or a lot of wine in the shower....
I kinda remember trying to staple rolls of toilet paper to make a pillow, but it's blank after that.
she gave me her number. found out it was already stored in my phone as "bathroom blowjob"
I just used my glow stick from the dance to find my way in the bathroom to puke. Who wants me on their corporate team
Walk of shaming dressed as a zombie hunter. This hangover feels like the actual apocalypse.
It's been hot as balls outside. It's like getting tea bagged by the Sun.
I walked into a room this morning and someone asked how my back was because I apparently threw myself off the porch after attempting to set myself on fire. Who the fuck let drunk me play with fire?!
Better question: who the fuck planted a tree next to the porch?!
I think my penis runs off weed. I haven't smoked it 3 days and I have no sex drive what so ever
with great strapon comes great responsibility.
I opened my bookbag to put my laptop in and I found two granola bars and a pregnancy test. I am clearly prepared for life
I'm literally rolling on acid for the first time during Thanksgiving. Help me.
I just found an entire bag of French fries under the seat of my car labeled "For emergency use only" drunk me is always planning ahead.
Randomize
