I puked the same amount of times as the number of bars i went to last night
fucking a dude
i mean: fucking a, dude
wow, that comma made all the difference there
bruce springsteen sings some of the most romantic songs i've ever heard.
the hells wrong with u
Ive either hit rock bottom or become my own hero.
tolerance is too high. going on a liquor strike. ghandi style.
He soundtracked our prebreakup sex, our breakup, and out postbreakup sex. At least he's dedicated.
So I cleaned out my gym bag. Found half a bottle of malibu.
You know, I could pretend I'm shocked but what's the use?
He cheated on me in real life. I can cheat at words with friends.
Okay. But I hope it isn't expensive lingerie. Because I'm ripping it off Hulk Hogan style.
Why is there a video on my phone of us trying to snort a line of Reeces Pieces with you chanting "This is how fat girls party"?
Found a grenade pin. Still no Dave.
I'm just saying; the box truck will cost less then dorms or rent, and we can always crash where the party is.
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
i feel like the girl with kaleidoscope eyes except the kaleidoscopes are sparkly butt plugs
also. when i get a car, the amount of space there is for sex WILL be a huge deciding factor.
Randomize
