Fuck u you updated twitter but didn't answer my text
I know you're alive
My mom just told me that the key to a successful marriage is never seeing your partner take a shit.
similar to the time we made up the game of screaming at the top of our lungs any time a guy any of us slept with walked into the party. that went over SO well.
I am so high I am beginning to unironically like Vanessa Carlton.
I'm someone's dream girl. I'm hungover in this guy's bed wearing ONLY a Brian Westbrook jersey. Not the same I was on a date with last night.
I'm not giving my ex her earrings back. If some chick i hated gave me brownies i would still eat them. It's the same thing.
the last thing i remember is yelling at the cab driver that i'm really good at drive by vomitting.
My mom now keeps ice cubes on hand for my bong water. We may be able to work this relationship out.
He called it restless penis syndrome. I call it cheating.
I need you to teach me how to be roommates with somebody I'm not fucking.
I think one make out session at a bar per year is probably the best choice.
To be honest, the last time I saw him he had a jesus costume on telling people to pray to his bible.
So he's at the chuch?
No, hooters.
Its amazing how creative youll get when your house has been out of toilet paper for a week and a half
Donated a pint of blood at 6 and pub crawl started at 7. Thank your lucky stars I'm still alive today.
my downstairs neighbor came by to say he’s having a huge loud party tomorrow, handed me a toblerone bar, and said thank you in advance for your understanding
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