I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
We left around 4 AM after the stripper showed no mercy and dropped into a split on Matt's nose. Massive nosebleed.
I mean, it's free alcohol, to turn it down would be a crime against humanity.
she was handing out condoms w/ her number on them...
Dude she was 62...with a boob job. And I'm proud to say I made out with that.
It's tuesday, which means cocktails followed by cocktales.
I just found scrambled eggs in my shower. Thanks for that, asshole.
we've coined the Sunday morning ritual of taking out our puke-filled trash cans as The Trash Of Shame
Last night was just one giant freudian slip.
You made out with EVERYBODY.
Can I just bleach my life?
I just dried my bra with your hair straightener because the drier is broken again.
Whatever. I hate you. My vagina hates you. I hope a bird shits on your head today.
turns out putting a tie on my unicorn onesie didn't make it acceptable "formal wear" and I found salsa in my cup holder
There are days when you go to throw something in your bedroom trash can and realize the only things in there are a used condom, a Lime-arita can and a muffin wrapper.
And he came by and picked me up. We cuddled in his car then had sex until... an officer doing his rounds put a spotlight on crazy haired, naked me straddling him.
Like he was inside me when I made eye contact with a police man.
stoners and superglue do NOT mix
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