Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
i'm home, then i'll come over
ightttt gangstaaaaaaaaaaaa
nvm.
i upgraded from drunk texts to drunk e-mails...real world here i come
he was so high that he wouldn't speak to anybody for like 30 minutes, he'd only gobble, like a turkey.
she just built a cabin out of hotdogs and cooked it in the microwave.
now she is shaking the plate and mumbling "this is what california must feel like"
Let's turn this shoulder dislocation into a positive. Come to the hospital, bring some beers, let's party.
Somehow she slept thru the vacuuming, people walking in and out, and the sound of constant beer bottles hitting the trash, but when someone said weed in a regular volume of voice she startled awake.
Im covered in vodka and melted gummys. Fuck summer.
This is simple. Just sex and high fives. No feelings.
He's so hot and there's so much R Kelly and vodka I think I might die.
Go for it! You're young. Have fun. Be somebody's expensive hobby like Anastasia Steele.
I'm going to avoid eye contact because my old high school English teacher is not who I feel like seeing after I just had a dick in my mouth
I woke up in bed spooning a vacuum cleaner
The bad thing is that I bled through my bandages last night and keep finding blood around the house. It's almost like a scavenger hunt for solber me. I get to find out where drunk me went.
It's fucking 2020, I should be able to watch Netflix in the buff while making brownies without you getting preachy about it.
Randomize
