So there I was.....spitting on my goldfish just to keep it alive.
I don't remember much but I know I looked hot.
chugging beers on the train. people are staring. I would be offended if it wasn't 8:30
I walked into my room to see them crying, watching hey arnold, and passing a franzia box back and forth...
I have no words
Neither did my mom, when she walked in on me squating with my balls in a cup of hot water.
Someone painted a weed leaf on my leg with red paint. Or blood. I hope paint.
Holy fuck just found a used tampon in the leg of my pants. it's not paint. It's. Not. Paint.
I just remembered that I did shots out of a gay mans crotch. And there's someone saved in my phone as "Miranda knows where my car is"
No, man, we stole the housekeeper's key and we're just going room to room raiding mini fridges. Hurry
Logan has the vodka and snickers. We're making a run for it. Room 302
Nothing says "I mean business" like using a cart at the liquor store.
At some point, it turned less into sparring and more into tough guy dry humping.
Update: just imagined being dirty talked to in an Irish brogue and I think my vagina became a sentient being.
I'm sitting naked on my bathroom floor and it remind me of us.
That's my way of saying I miss you
christmas shopping: 3 hours in the liquor store...
Don't come up here. Strippers r crying.
You sent me a very drunk love letter
Was it the one about pterodactyls?
I was disappointed I thought you actually loved me
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