now everythime i write "i'm" in my phone my tap9 spells out "i'm-never-drinking-again". It's trying to remind me
aaaannd alcoholism beats pride. it's like grown-up rock, paper, scissors
I just found 17 dollars of saltine crackers in my room. confused incredibly. suprised not at all.
Doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom and the word 'better' do not belong in the same sentence.
After a couple hours you decided you were going to walk home but ten minutes later you called and said you'd puked by the side of the road and you needed us to drive you to the art museum.
He doesn't belong with God. He belongs face-down in a pile of his own excrement, vomit, blood and semen. Then pissed on by Satan.
I just really need to get the matching flask to go with my pill box. Is this another step towards rock bottom?
She fell down no less than 4 times while we were at the club. One of which was while she was in the bathroom stall next to me.
Friendly reminder that on the walk home you tripped but instead of falling to the sidewalk, you tried to save it and ended up headbutting my ex-boyfriend in the balls. ILU.
Unintentional and slightly frustrating adventures are basically all I'm good for. Expect heart palpitations, cheap food, and homeless men serenading us.
You know your night is done when the police confiscate your bra at high school basketball game
I've never been so excited to have my ass in so much pain.
I don't know what to do about my nipple.
You sat on me. Like I was a toilet. While I was on the toilet. You peed a little.
Dear Douchebag, I would just like to formally issue this fuck you. You will be receiving a letter in the mail soon. With all of your stuff.
Randomize
