long story short: there's a file in the master file cabinet labeled "lube".
He's trying to row the canoe up my front yard like he is Lewis and Clark.
My mom had to physically restrain me because I wouldn't stop acting like a dinosaur.
You're in the clear; you and Andrew did not joint fingerbang that girl on the dance floor last night.
They can be so fun, drunk bruises are like clues to the treasure of what actually happened last night. "why do I have a bruise on my belly button? oh right. i was trying to turn my stomach off so I would stop throwing up."
Apparently im getting a reputation for how i mix drinks. Im the midas of booze. Everything i touch turns to koolaid.
Do I have to formally apologize to Brett for flashing him?
I ran into a hotel and told the doorman he was doing a great job. That was before you cried on my jacket.
That works. I won't care. I'll be a mermaid. Mermaids don't give a fuck.
Especially drunk mermaids.
woke up in a random sweater in a random bed in a random house on a street I don't recognize..
also, I vaguely remember swapping shirts with some random guy on the dance floor.
You drunkenly hook up with 5 people in one night and suddenly everyone tries to party with you.
I just wrote a love letter to my weed and texted it to my cousin. I can't say it any differently. It happened.
I've faked every orgasm I've ever had, I think I can fake being sick for 8 hours.
He walked in on me masturbating and on my phone but got mad because I wasn't watching porn just tweeting
I had a dream I hooked up with Post Malone. I can still smell the dream
Randomize
