So, I woke up to an empty bottle of scotch and a dead car. The last thing I remember are the strippers being mad at me. Awesome night.
Feels good to be wearing underwear again though...
my grand plan for the evening is to do shots of vodka til i cant anymore
the Monday before Thanksgiving is not a Monday at all. Just Thursday in Monday suit.
HER PREGGO ASS BROUGHT SPEGHETTI-O'S... IN HER PURSE.
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Im calling him
was mistake calling. If you drunk dial someone you deserve to choke on a tubesock. Take the advice. Always remember
Why is it that when I sustain a serious injury people are more concerned with my level of inebriation than my personal safety?
My boyfriend just asked what time I was coming over. As soon as my old BF unchains me. I think he ran away.
Also I played a weird game of chicken in the ladies room at work between myself the person pooping 2 stalls over and a very determined maintenance man.
I still have your make up all over the inside of my thighs from the face sitting. Free tonight?
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I think I almost ran over some kid I went to high school with. Guilt factor: moderate to low.
Every time our eyes meet, I silently summon him to my vagina.
This is the third time this year I've whored myself for a Netflix login. If this guy changes his password, I'm gonna fucking give up.
Or maybe pay for Netflix?
I'm not that desperate yet.
Who knew sons of strippers would be really feminist boyfriends?
If I make it through this whole bridesmaid process without anyone knowing that I actually hate everyone but the bride, including the groom, I deserve a complimentary bottle of vodka.
I just found a nug casually in my room under my duffel bag. Is this a sign I need help?
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