I dont know whether to be proud of myself for not driving, or being proud that i was so messed up I couldnt drive
and that's why we call him explosion in my pants. no one remembers his real name.
he pointed at my clit and asked with a confused face, 'whats this thingy??"
Steve is enlightening me on how and why u put gerbils up your ass
I fucking love fucking science majors-- she told me that she wanted to know if her gag reflex got better or worse with alcohol, and that her initial evidence had been inconclusive. So, next few weeks, yeah, gettin blown periodically. All I have to do is keep a log.
A picture just appeared on facebook. I am puking in the toilet, you are next to me puking in the sink. I think we have our christmas card.
Hey thanks again for rolling me that blunt necklace. It was amazing.
We made a trail of cheez balls so we knew how to get back to te apartment.
I didn't cheat on him. He just hasn't been informed of the open part of our relationship.
I just want to steal his innocence through his penis. I really do.
Apparently getting drunk at a philanthropy event and tweeting about it is "frowned up"
I'm not entirely sure that the guy that just texted me is not on drugs right now. I'm also not entirely sure that he isn't about to be incarcerated.
So I've been spending my morning trying to figure out if there's a corealation between Wednesday margarita night and the boat that's now in my living room.
I had my first "Damn Kids/When I Was That Age" rant at work today. We need to drink this feeling out of me. NOW.
Thanks for not letting me choke to death on my vomit last night
Thank you for attempting to organize my DVDs in chronological and alphbetical order
Randomize
