So shortly after drunk sex...she starts crying and saying..." you don't care about me, you never do anything nice for me" so I called her a cab
this is a mass text: i just made a grilled cheese with an iron and pasta with the coffeemaker in the hotel room. bow before your new god.
I just remembered yelling "they're gonna let me be a lawyer! Me! Why would they do that?"
You stood up gave the stripper 15 ones in a wad, hugged her and then sat back down.
Walked into the bar with my burrito and ordered a round of shots for everyone. Not sure if I want to look at the credit card statement.
Judging by what she did last night, I would say at least 4 of them have mono now.
I can't decide who is the bigger alcoholic: you for opening that bottle of wine just now or me for hearing it in the other room over the air conditioner
I've smoked enough weed to put down a pony.
If you can count on one hand the number of times you have actually, truly nearly died this month, then you are not really living yet.
Nothing brings people closer than bonding over tequila shots and running from campus security.
You called my nipples compassionate. What does that even mean?
why does drunk me think that doing things like throwing up on my desk and all over my 15 page lab report is okay
well all i have to say, besides fuck you, is YOU try assembling ikea shelves while high on molly.
I still can't believe that dog licked my nipple.
He asked me how many starwars references he could make before i no longer find him attractive.
Randomize
