it wasn't lemon gatorade
I'm totally counting that party when he kept putting his hands down my pants as a date.
it's already thursday and i haven't gotten drunk yet...something's not right.
Pretty sure I went to the bar in my bathing suit, sweat pants, and high heels.
I drank mimosas and played bocce ball in the middle of finals week...now i know how Comm majors feel all the time.
Stole a wheelchair from the hospital and rolled down the street smoking and drinking this is my weekend
I threw up in the bar parking lot and yelled THIS IS MY FUTURE.
I'm serious. My alarm label is "BAR TABS" as motivation for me to wake up in the morning and go to work.
I just used my AAA membership to fix a strippers flat tire in return for a lapdance...does that make me a bad person?
Unfortunately, the Bilbo Baggins adventure side of me that likes to go on adventures appears to be losing to the side of me that likes to smoke weed in the bathtub and watch Workaholics.
He brought me four big burritos and two joints! He can sleep with his bank teller any time he wants!
but I have boobs. I'm not going to buy my own drinks at the bar like some kind of fucking animal.
It's all fun and games until you have to pay the bar tab.
Trying to figure out why my back is hurting. And then I remember I got fucked up against a tree last night
he's not even weird he's been offering me different drinks all night
oh i remember now hes the guy that liked when i peed on him
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