The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
awoke with 47 plastic lawn flamingos in my bed and on surrounding floor. explanation?
you said they were your minions of evil that protected you from ferrets.
He is drunkenly eating my teddy grahms and making little growling noises as he bites the head off of each one.
Bring mistletoe to the strip club, and they feel obligated. they dont even charge you
apparently it was the return of drunk burrito sex.
scarred for life. way too high and witnessed some chick give a dude head on the dance floor
At one point in time, he cried and said I didn't appreciate him.
he referred to his penis as the bashful dwarf from snow white
I've had to much cheese to give a fuck about anything. im tired.
Things in my bed this morning: a Waffle House hat, a finding nemo DVD, sharpies, my graduation robes and an adult diaper. Did we play drunk scavenger hunt again?
It's not really the holidays until I raid the medicine cabinet. Happy hydrocodone to me
And a merry methadone to all
I keep shaking cocoa puffs out of my hair. Best Sunday Funday ever.
I think he's like 40 and maybe a little sociopathetic and i have never been so turned on
Another text to add to the intervention pile, i see
This is why I can't take dates to shows... I've literally made out with everyone in this band. And two of the guys in the crowd. And the bartender.
I remember reading the word "lift" so I did. The alarn went off, and I thought to myself "what dumbass pulls the fucking fire alarm?" and then I realized it was me...
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