if creeping was an olympic sport, i would be a lock for the gold right now.
You just left with that feminine looking guy you kept calling "Jessica." Just giving the heads up.
if i hear one more christmas song, i will fucking shoot myself.
you kept making us tell you how cute you looked in your new outfit, even after you threw up all over it
and i do it all in one night. I'm like santa but a whore.
i can't believe you were mixing vodka with green tea last night and enjoying it.
i should bottle and sell it. my slogan could be "green tea vodka. antioxidating while intoxiacting. your liver will thank you. "
They are chanting tits for freedom and I'm highly considering
Im embracing the luau theme and maybe bringing a kiddie pool filled with alcohol. Im also embracing the high probability I will not remember this night.
He's basically like a fancy dildo that buys me dinner.
I'm too afraid that I'm 1. Banned or 2. Gonna be noticed by the lady bouncer I punched.
His daughter is our waitress. I left her a ten dollar 'I'm sorry I'm a whore and fucked your dad' tip...
Nothing says Merry Christmas like gifting a bottle of rum and finishing it yourself then leaning over at the dinner table to puke it back up.
That jawline could fucking have its way with me.
We are literally scheduling phone sex... if that's not long distance af then i don't know what is
I guess she found the pillow case full of vomit I hid last night: "Oh my God. Oh my God. In my fucking FRIDGE?! Really? Hope your dick falls off there's puke all over my food. Fucking die."
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