I'm twenty-five. I'm too old to be watching my friend throw up in Chipolte Parking lot.
morning outfit: hottub soaked skirt. no underwear. someone's bandanna worn as a shirt. took me an hour to walk home. this isn't fun anymore.
Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
I'm getting drunk watching the disney channel. Is this a main reason why we aren't together anymore?
They're drinking Schnapps out of Spaghetti-o's cans. Please come pick me up.
Give me one reason I shouldn't put the phrase "sex emotions" into my essay.
No.
people in the room actually applauded when we discovered you had the ability to somehow throw up on your own back
God I feel like the rain man of hangovers.
Dude. Get me out of here. I'm surrounded by glitter-faced 40 year olds in halter tops. The desperation here is so thick you can taste it.
Hey do you eat chocolate chip pancakes with bacon in?
DO NOT MAIL ME A PANCAKE
My legs r really sober for running now
I don't think that's how sobriety works.
I'm like still hungover from the quinceanera.
also I have no idea whose underpants I'm wearing right now but they're super comfy and I'm not giving them back ever
you put your keys in the fridge so you wouldn't forget your yoohoo
DONT YOU DARE YELL AT ME. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO PAY FOR THE CAB WITH YOUR PANERA REWARDS CARD.
Randomize
