After last night, I could never be a politician.
I gave her the chance to be interesting and she failed. So then I gave her a chance to be slutty and she failed at that too.
it was worse than that time i tried giving evan head 4 days post nose job.
i just found a cheeto on my floor and ate it. i might still be drunk.
Only thing I know is apparently I danced with a bouncer and we got a ride back from a valet who was driving one of the cars he was supposed to be parking
The Russian stripper asked if I like foreign girls. I told her I absolutely fucking hate accents. Most awkward 7 minutes ever
i swear, you were born with a blunt in one hand and somebody else's wallet in the other.
And as cleavage season comes to a close, so blooms a new season of yoga pants. And the people rejoiced.
Would it be inappropriate to do a science fair project on whether the type of drunk a person is is determined by nature or nurture
dude you're not even a fucking science major
On way back. With a shopping cart. Minimal casualties.
In light of your oncoming completion of twenty-three years of personhood, I feel a pressing need to blast country-pop phenomenon Taylor Swift's hit single "22" in your general direction until midnight.
Things that don't wash off in the shower: black eyes and hickies.
I woke up hugging my purse and I found a business card in my underwear. How?
See and now you're talking. I am like the fairy godmother of hook ups.
I swear to God...this day is one great big who's who in the land of fucked uppedness.
Randomize
