That was rough. We had a 50% puke rate and 100% still drunk rate at lunch
I may or may not be drunk driving a golf cart. Vegaaaassssssss.
He fell off the roof... he clearly has not been preparing for summer.
The second I saw you stumbling down the stairs in a princess crown, I knew I had a friend for life.
I hear youre working today. To keep you entertained, ive compiled a list of condiments that my dick has NOT been slathered in since last Friday: Relish, and raspberry jam. That's right.
Feeling better?
I can stand long enough to do the dishes finally. Been trying that all day.
I think my whole family judged my ability to change under a blanket.
In a moving vehicle and other people in the car
I should put together a new mom basket for her. It would have diapers, vodka, ambien, and tissues for when she cries about her wasted youth.
We should discuss this later when sobriety has returned. Right now he's just like a distant cousin.
Nothing says Merry Christmas like gifting a bottle of rum and finishing it yourself then leaning over at the dinner table to puke it back up.
I found my soulmate. Behold my idiot as we spaz into the sunset.
Fuckin' raining men in my bedroom while I'm trying to drunk eat a rather large portion of pasta. Like shoo I already picked who I'm sleeping with. Pasta wins.
I need ecstasy. And, before you ask, the answer is yes right now
I'm sure he likes you too... but your boyfriend is kind of a cockblock
He deliberately gets me high because he knows I fuck better and then I make food for two. I don't know if I should feel mad or proud of him for thinking that far.
Randomize
