Just so we both are on the same page, I have no solid plans as to where I'll be sleeping tonight.
All I want for christmas is my sobriety back.
and I'm going to name my autobiography "blow jobs with enthusiasm are the best"
I'm naming my autobiography "Reasons Not to Date Girls From Texas."
some gay kid said he wanted to blow him because "his eyebrows told a story"
Either I'm spending too much time drinking or my perfume is starting to smell like a pineapple vodka.
not much just sitting outside his bathroom door naked eating cheetoes. You?
Fuck underwear. Let's get stoned and eat ravioli.
It took me fifteen minutes to go from puking on my doorstep infront of my old lady neighbor to legit presentable person able to care for children. Bronzing powder and I deserve an award.
If I get to the point of singing Man of Constant Sorrow then please god let me do it, record it, then cut me off.
You're wrong. It's my BIRTHDAY. We all know it's impossible to get pregnant on my diva day!
Actually I more feel like I'm on a ship about to grab the holy grail off an island
The ship is me being high the holy grail is some profound idea I'm about to have
Is selling savings bonds for acid money something a normal person does?
Update: they told me I was twerking to twenty one pilots
Our sex is like an episode of "The Simpsons." Picture Homer choking Bart, and that's pretty much what we're into.
I might have to quit marching band. It's affecting my drinking schedule
Randomize
