I'm at breakfast still drunk holding a blow up parrot
You're not pinnochio. Lying isn't going to make it bigger.
alright so where did all these fingerpaintings on my bedroom wall come from?
dude. you drew those with your dick
His apartment number was 69. I had to.
beyond obliterated. i recall legitimately trying to use a ballpoint pen as eyeliner.
Questioning the dried heart shaped nutella on my boobs. Valentines day has begun.
i'm on the subway and being revisted by the ghosts of tequilas past.
I remember pointing out how smooth my legs were to try to direct his attention away from my vagina.
Someone jacked my earrings off me or I threw em in the toilet again
I hate when that happens
this may be my drink champagne alone in a bbaby pool in the dark night
well I have to shit but I'm too hungover to push, and I snorted advil so I wouldn't have to swallow it and throw up.. hungover is an understatement.
Last I remember we played rock paper scissors for who would fuck the guy with cowboy boots on and I won..
It's pathetic. My bed hasn't been this sexless since it was in bedmart.
After my lunch today, I've got $10 till Sunday night. I am losing at life.
I love him about as much as I'd love fucking myself with a cactus.
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