So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
I'm doing a half mile walk of shame carrying a trash bag and still very drunk. Save me. I feel like a refugee.
I really need to stop carrying a flask around with me in my backpack at school..
Aren't you in 8th grade?
9th, but that's not the point.
And dont tell me its his job to cockblock me just because he's my boyfriend.
I cannot start working out. If I start to look better, I'll ruin ugly women's chances forever. So, really...I'm doing them a favor...think about it.
So, sleeping with all of my Vicodin in my bra because I knew she'd be searching my room for drugs tonight. I'LL SHOW HER.
Just so you know, my new pet parrot tried to bond sexually with me today. That is what Google told me. I'm not sure of its gender.
Just looked for hours for the remote. Found it in my purse. I need to drink less.
You used his ass cheeks to demonstrate how to play the bongos and he still called you the next day. That's true love.
Somehow his homemade liquor activated memories of my semester abroad three years ago. I ended up yelling random medical advice in German, while my roommates played dress-up with the cat stoned out of their minds. I consequently gave up on dating. Back in the ONS game.
I'm to the point where I just want to get back at him in a hot man sex tornado way.
You peed all over his floor and had a bottle popped in your ass when you passed out. Don't tell me I'm "still living in my college days"
I just threw up into a baby carriage. There was a baby in it.
It took me twenty minutes to read that sentence.
All I said was okay...
Someone puked in my crockpot. Your friends can’t come over any more.
Randomize
