So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
I woke up to 'call me' written in red lipstick on my chest. Thats the hottest/sluttiest thing ever. I win at LIFE!
Even if you were sober, spitters are STILL quitters, end of story.
i'm waiting for the less fat version of him to text me
Just whacked off in the middle of writing a paper, gave me great ideas. Note, should do this more often.
Woke up with a migrane, threw up blood, then my headache went away. I'm going to convince myself that it was just a bad batch of blood so I can drink again tonight
the welcome home hickey he left on my boob is really gunna put a damper on the rest of my thanksgiving hook up plans with the rest of my ex's
wine pong. its mother daughter day and i think she's mad. I smell like jager
Pretty sure I just shit out pure stomach acid. I'll explain after you take me to a hospital
What happened to my knees?
You ate shit in front of the homeless people. They applauded.
I'm full of champagne and rage, of course I'm showing up at his house.
This makes me appreciate being single with no prospects.
Correction: Jimmy johns. The one pita pit employee has been an asshole to me ever since you locked them out of the store
I guess you could say that.. I mean, we did walk in on our DD doing a keg stand thru her ass.
We're on our way. We couldn't find our clothes this morning, so we're driving your car half naked. You owe me a cigarette.
Randomize
