Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
the recent google searches were "were can i buy a porn horse, why does my heart hurt after drinking, and orlando's teen night..." your thought process perplexes me
She refered to her bed as the "cockpit"....I understand that this morning.
Sitting in a bubble bath with my bong, how's your morning?
You puked in the drive thru of Taco Bell. You puked as it was being handed to me. You managed to yell out "FIRE SAUCE" in between hurls.
Drunk yoga at 11 am turned into me sitting on the couch making fun of the girl in the instructional video. By the way, what the fuck is a third eye?
He pulled the pencil out of my leg and then we fucked. It felt sorta like pulp fiction in reverse.
Drinking and pointing where stuff needs to go is hard stuff.
My bathroom smells like artichokes and absinthe. I am naming a perfume after you and using the money to buy new towels.
You know what a wolf looks like when it kills a small animal? How it shakes it around in it's mouth? I did that to a bag of Taco Bell last night
He said he actually "met" me for the first time through a picture his housemate had of me, drunk and passed out in a pool of my own vomit, on the floor of his basement.
I understand, but unless there is an intervention for me being planned, i DON NOT want to talk about my life choices
I feel like Captain Morgan shit all over my hopes and dreams last night...
That's why god made go-pro's and tequila
So... I sharted on the plane. It was hard to maintain my composure and acted offended at the same time. I hate you for not cutting me off last night.
Randomize
