Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
He looked me in the chest and said "I think I was visited by the titty fairy last night"
sorry about last night, I don't know what happened but I woke up this morning and looked strikingly similar to courtney love, it had to be bad.
i knew she was high when she broke up the cookies into her glass of milk and ate it like cereal
Lauren she was gnawing on a dresser. Gnawing. On. A. Dresser.
I think god is proud of me so he is rewarding me in discounted wine
truck drivers should not leave their trucks unlocked with cigarettes inside when we're drunk and walking around.
Well my dad thinks I wake up at 3 or 4 am every day. Really it is just all the booty calls, but I'm glad he thinks I am so motivated
but it was less of a make out and more of a goodnight kiss as a "thanks for giving our drunk asses a ride home and sorry we called your bar the worst bar in LA"
I am coping with the snow storm with beer and shots of jack. If I were outside in shorts I might be able to pass as a Canadian.
my mom tried to talk to me about my drinking, i somehow turned it around on her, now shes going to AA and I'm going to the bar.
he keeps various drugs in his kitchen cupboard like groceries. that is my new life goal as an adult.
Last night at a party someone grabbed my ass so I just fucking punched them in the face then went home and ate a frozen pizza
My Easter Basket from my parents consisted of one chocolate bunny and a massive amount of condoms and a single note saying "the pope approves of the use of condoms" love mom and dad
there's still a lot i don't remember, like why my iphone's nailed to your wall
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