we're blogging at a bar
i feel like pizza bites are my only friend right now
I blacked out before two in the afternoon yesterday. Now that's a successful birthday.
i caught myself talking to a pigeon about my yeast infection.
I'm sports announcer narrating myself making a sandwich. Your weed wins.
Casually brushing the Bacardi out of my hair. It's a good time to ponder regretting everything that happened last night.
Sign she's a keeper: "I would rather be late to brunch than waste a perfectly good boner."
And then we can spend New Year's Day sprawled across the tiles watching greys anatomy and puking into the bushes over the balcony. It'll be great
I'm so hungover it hurts to blink.. oh sweet merciful Christ what have I done
I sewed up my pants, stole his girlfriends white shirt, and went to work hungover like a responsible adult.
I'll miss you, too. On the bright side, a night away from one another might give me a chance to recup seminal fluids.
I'm in my onesie attempting to spoon-feed myself cold soup. I'm playing freeze tag with my hangover. My hangover's winning.
Also, let me tell you how embarrassing it is to match with someone who seemingly has their shit together at 4:45AM on a Thursday.
I stared at his dick and then told him to get on his knees
She calls him the walking dildo to his face. That relationship is already fucked up.
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