My Hamptons summer hookup resume reads like a walk-in clinic waiting list.
you make it seem like sunflower seeds and pinot grigio are not in the food pyramid.
The best was having to tell my 16y/o cuz and her bf that we could see him fingering her in the inner tube. Lucky for them, I'm the cool cousin... and was river-level fuckedup.
I can't make this stuff up. Your ex is singing I Will Survive on the karaoke.
He just yelled in the bar, "So I stuck it in two girls butts, why are you bringing that up now?"
I asked for a dramatic "funeral" look for my makeup. They judged me.
at least if we puke, we will be surrounded by beautiful, non-judgemental trees.
he tried to do a one handed cartwheel to showoff but knocked himself out cold. fuckin jagerbombs will kill that man.
I'm glad they extended train service last night. People crying, screaming, throwing up, fighting and peeing themselves on a train made me feel like I've got my shit together.
If her puking on your pool table is her sign of a good night, it's time to intervene.
If I don't go to Australia I'm using that towards a new car. If I do I'll use it to buy a koala.
My goal is to be drunk before we even get out of the No Wake Zone.
You don't understand. My ass is the color of eggplant.
so evidently blowing a guy does not mean he will say hi to you when he sees you in class.. in case you're ever wondering
I’m traumatised. Bring vodka and condoms.
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