It's impossible to flirt with the bank tellers because they see how broke I am.
first party of the semester tomorrow. thinking of wearing a huge sign that says "my summer was good" to avoid the 67 questions and get straight to drinking
My hickies are dark enough that I can feel drivers judging me from across an intersection
Some clips from last night: grinded like I haven't since college. Took shots with a bartender with a bad ass mustache. Made up a string of lies with fake names and occupations. Slept behind the couch with pizza in my hand
Worst decision of artistic career thus far: bringing a banana to eat on male model day.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
Sorry about flashing you in front of your mom.
You decided it was too difficult to walk down the stairs so you just rolled across his kitchen floor laughing like a maniac and trying to drink at the same time
Looks like I've become the Walter White of my PhD cohort.
Ever since the Christmas fiasco of '08, I can no longer watch Rudolf the Red nosed reindeer without getting a hard on
I or someone else dumped a lot of glitter into my boobs last night.
Lady Gaga is doing the 1/2 time show. I hope it's gay and liberal as fuck.
We left Waffle House and he took off running five miles down the road saying we were "training for the Olympics." And I mean, I couldn't leave him out there like that...
the orange of my hangover Tang is hurting my eyes... my coworkers knew it was hangover Tang too.
Sharted again. Stuck in traffic. Fuck
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