everything was going good until you started showing off the pictures of poop you took with your phone
yeah seriously, fuck school. I'm changing my master's thesis question from "what are the neuropsychological correlates of antisocial personality" to "will my cat drink this beer"
Any particular reason you put 2 smashed up limes in my back pocket last night?
I fucking love fucking science majors-- she told me that she wanted to know if her gag reflex got better or worse with alcohol, and that her initial evidence had been inconclusive. So, next few weeks, yeah, gettin blown periodically. All I have to do is keep a log.
He's trying to kill me, one liver cell at a time. It's going to be a slow, but awesome death
I'm sober in pajamas at a bar. Nothing is ok about that statement.
I pulled out moves I did not even know I possessed, our fucking de-throned gods
I think we need to stage an Intervention. Her Instagram is a call for help.
If you saw or spoke to me yesterday can you message me. Trying to make a timeline of the day I was too drunk to remember
His phone started ringing when we were pulled over and he said 'hold on, this is most likely more important than you', proceeded to answer it and agree to work sunday, then hung up, looked at the cop and told him to continue.
My vagina still hurts from yesterday. That's the last time I think riding a mop bucket is a good idea. Don't let me do that again
I think sunday funday got a little out of control. There is cheese slices and BBQ sauce all over the roof and 4 empty bottles of vodka in my room.
Um. I just realized I still have a beer in my purse from last night. I'm at work. I am so classy.
He fucked me while I was smoking his blunt. His apartment was trashed and he drives a van that looks like it’s been hit by a train but still 10/10 would fuck again.
We should write a country song: “Blacked Out on a Sunday”
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