you kept slapshing your drinks on people saying the power of christ compels you.
I think I just sold my virginity for plane tickets
all you kept yelling was "i'm bored and i'm sober"
we were fucking and all I could think about is how my silly bands were glowing in the dark.
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he made me have a moment of silence for the half of my ice cream cone i threw away.
you both peed in the photobooth after the pictures were taken.
Still trying to wash and scratch the glitter off of my dick. That stripper should be banned.
somehow, even strange, drunk, middle-aged men on the RTA can't understand why he'd choose her over me
maybe it's because you talk to strange, drunk, middle-aged men on the RTA
As girls, Bert & Ernie are not very bangable costumes. At least not by who we'd want to get banged by.
I was kidding. But I promise you I'd still find us the most eligible bangables, even if we dressed up like a dumpster and a prom night baby.
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I wouldn't be surprised. You and I have basically synced up our brain chemistry by doing drugs together in the same way that two girls would sync their menstrual cycles by sharing a house.
I feel like i'm walking on a never-ending field of baby sheep.
I'm still high with raccoon eyeliner eyes and chocolate all over my face and chest, clutching a mug of wine. Happy graduation.
You know I'm having a rough day when I'm curled up in the corner eating Spaghettios.
I managed to get through my meeting without throwing up in someone else's office, so there's that for an accomplishment today.
Fine line between drunken accidental sleepover with your best friend's lab partner and gay sexathon. I did a cartwheel over that line. A CARTWHEEL THAT LANDED IN HIS LAP
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