trying to fathom saturday night and the fact that Rainn Wilson now hates me. my brain hurts.
Turns out drinking large amounts of Gentleman Jack does NOT turn you into a Gentleman -- quite the opposite actually.
My face smells like last night's lay. I need a whore bath. Or a corndog.
I love how all the girls on the plan b commercial wake up alone.. Like me
I ate a lot of your sunchips. I mean a lot. Like 4 to 5 bags.
we were all standing in the kitchen taking shots and we look over at you and your face is in the plate of spaghetti you were eating.
I'm in the line at the airport trying not to vomit on the person in front of me. Happy Tuesday.
hot boxing the bathroom at chili's. where the fuck are you, it's too big of a box for just one person.
And please let him know I don't normally go off on long rants about feminist theory. That was totally the vodka talking.
University has ruined us all. I just had to clarify the last time I had sex as "No, not at the party we crawled home from in the snow. It was the one where you puked off the balcony and hit the barbecue."
Like I actually don't feel all that great but the fact that I'm not projectile vomiting at work makes life seem so magical
I swear to God, if you have sex in my bed one more time you're gonna start paying rent
I've already come to terms that I'm gonna have to bone a few gross librarians, but hey, it's college
I'm daydrinking whiskey in a princess hat
He had all the grace of a fucking hippo and the emotional control of a five year old
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