So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
i suspect the closest i'll get to a valentine this year is a 16 year old on chat roulette asking me to show my tits. step up from last year, i guess.
she said, and i quote, "i want to black out with my rack out"
His shopping cart was nothing but malt liquor and zucchini.
he said i was so drunk that i shared a urinal with him and we simultainiously peed
Asking the cop for directions wearing a lion mask may not have been my best moment...
chugging beers on the train. people are staring. I would be offended if it wasn't 8:30
I like to keep a steady black out going for the holidays. I feel it makes me less cynical
you missed an awesome concert last night. some middle aged woman that was grinding on me kept trying to stick her hand down my pants. i ended up rewarding her tenacity by letting her hold onto it for a song, i think it made her night.
My night started to turn around the time I started calling her a "raggedy cunt".
Somehow she got that I meant it as a term of endearment.
My night can be summed up in 3 words: Vodka. Threesomes. Hospital.
I want to get back to junior year skinny- without all the drugs.
you do realize the next step is naked mud wrestling, right?
That awkward moment when you realize that last night you walked from in n out to petco, bought a mouse for $3, named it mogar, taught it how to skateboard on a techdeck, made it a home out of a trash can, fed it fruity pebbles and cheese, and then forgot where you left it.
She was doing drunken zumba and screaming "FUCK YOU I HAVE MY OWN STYLE!" at the TV
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