Just so you know, the bottle of red gatorade is NOT GATORADE. It is definitely someone's puke. I hope nobody else makes the same mistake I did.
she made me cover her fishbowl with my shirt because she "didn't want to corrupt it."
He just slept in my bed for a couple hours and asked lots of questions about gay sex. No, I do not have his number.
I don't think I own any pants that haven't seen his bedroom floor anymore...
she's sitting here naked with heels and a taco.
I would just watch. I wouldn't even have a boner cuz I would do so much coke. It would just be funny.
We tried to make a sex tape, but we were hammered and she forgot to take the cap off the camera. Somebody starts snoring 10 minutes in.
You called in. Quitter. You stayed at home naked drinking again didnt you.
He tried to fight me not realizing that I work as a bouncer in the the same bar we were in. His night ended with him in handcuffs, missing teeth, PLUS I got his shots that he ordered since he didn't get to drink them.
#1 RULE OF DRINKING: DELETE YOUR EX'S NUMBER FROM YOUR PHONE
I fell asleep on the air hockey table and someone turned it on, scariest shit ever when you're that fucked up
somehow I feel like "adventures with cocaine and molly" wouldn't be an appropriate "How I Spent My Spring Break" essay topic.
You know the cave of wonders in Aladdin? That's how I feel about his apartment. Except with blow and other treasures.
Apparently I'm a "fire hazard"
I feel as if some line has been crossed, but only in this vague, WTF sort of way.
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