You keep asking me questions like I have this magical thing called a memory
I was so drunk last night that I went into my 15 year old sisters room to have her peer edit the drunk texts I was sending to my ex.
Oh. Im drinking alone in a banana costume. Every time youre feeling down, i want you to think of me right now and know that your life is better than mine.
we do all of our sexting over chat on words with friends, so my boyfriend doesn't know about it when he looks at my texts.
Going abroad, it was like my vagina was in a candy store... a sweet sweet british candy store
She paints her nails the color of the sheets of the last guy she slept with
I definitely managed to work the word "aforementioned" into the conversation.. At least I'm an intelligent sexter.
He showed up drunk to my cousions HS grad party, we stayed at the bars till 2, then he got up at 5 to run a half marathon and by the time I woke up wlhe was already back and drinking.
You know you're fucked up when you throw your phone on the roof of the bar to show how good the Otter Box works.
Okay good. I don't want another mom thinking I got their daughter pregnant.
So update from last night: I made friends with a coke dealer, I tore the card scanner off the wall of my dorm, and I passed out on our bathroom counter with my head in the sink.
That's what you get for dating construction workers you meet in tunnels.
You're still my best friend even though you continue to pass out on random toilets every time you drink
Just remember: We don't tell our English professor about our fetishes unless she specifically asks about them.
I have got to stop telling people I was almost a prositute every time I drink
Randomize
