STOP SENDING ME DANCING JESUS FORWARDS.
If the first sentence isn't something about weed or the nature of choclate I'm skipping class.
he drank a monster margarita at dinner. had to ask me if it was dollars or minutes that ended in 60.
I didn't know how to tell her I was too busy getting stoned and making a baked potato to meet up and finish our group project.
i'm on the subway and being revisted by the ghosts of tequilas past.
As i looked at his penis, it stared back into my soul. No more drinking games.
I saw him walking to campus with his beer in his hand in the same sweats he wore walking to campus with a beer in his hand yesterday.
The pastor just stopped the sermon to lay hands on me. THAT hungover.
Come over. I've made 2 dinners and so many cocktails. I'm a 50's housewife with no family.
In light of your oncoming completion of twenty-three years of personhood, I feel a pressing need to blast country-pop phenomenon Taylor Swift's hit single "22" in your general direction until midnight.
its the first football sunday and my boyfriend isn't excited. this isn't gonna last unless he makes me snacks and brings me beer during the game.
I've seen you dance and let's just say its a good thing you don't have a small dick
I'm ready to get married, then we can lie around watching anime and eating pizza while he rubs baby oil on me
Oh my god I need an adult
Wait shit I am an adult
The awkward moment when you're leaving the most attractive guy you've ever been with and you're trying not to shit on yourself. Fucking welcome to my life
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