I woke up this morning with I hate myself feeling
I failed the drunk obstacle course of trying to find my bed... consolation prize... a sore ankle and "disappointed' parents.
It's 10am, I'm at grocery store buying booze b/c the bf just told me that he didn't "technically" break up with his ex.
Performed a legit marriage between 2 drunk people at last call yesterday. Becoming ordained has already paid for itself.
When she e-mailed me back asking for proof, complete with hospital intake records, I just told her it was a home-birth. I'm prepared to take the fail.
The jerky fairy visited my fridge. It's glorious.
Love is....waiting for your girl to throw up her shot in the bathroom...then handing her her beer. Game face.
He came up to me looked at my tits said they were huge, rated them a 7 and then asked if girls really do masterbate. To make it better, he put his hand up to my face and said his penis is longer than my face...
I also got a mission for you and you're gonna love it. Biggest. Hospital. Party. Ever.
Well pulled into the driveway, and there she was. Kinda like a Vegas version of the mint on a pillow
Is it bad that I want a job purely so I can buy drugs with without feeling like I am sacrificing my future?
Why do you think I have a job?
Lesson learned. No more vodka and toaster strudel
Can you have a quarter life crisis another time? I'm trying to masterbate.
I don't like pregnant me. I eat very large burritos, I don't like having sex and I can't even finish a Blue Moon.
I'm covered in bruises and scratches. I dont know whether to call them battlescars or sex decals
Randomize
