your address is 607B right?
yeah why?
i need to tell the guy bringing over the flaming bag of dog shit where to put it
Note: footlong is not the password to the subway wi fi network.. p.s- im super high
I love my penis, it thinks for me sometimes
I am telling you that nothing wakes you up like stomach acid exiting your nostrils at 10AM
If one more "stranger" walks up to me at the bar and asks how I have been, I am going to rehab.
Dude they are all farmers and I'm pretty sure there's a prostitute here.
Also, the wait staff kept prematurely clearing my Manhattans. Not sure if it was an oversight or a hint.
If he's dead I'm so gonna get the blame. I have his passport, keys and his tooth in my purse.
She said to bring taco sauce. Hoping that's a euphemism.
The barista asked if I wanted my drink wet or dry, but all that came to mind was farts. You have ruined me.
Y'know, "Class cancelled because Professor is stuck in Mexico," is not something I expected in college. Let alone, "Professor is stuck in Mexico, AGAIN."
I decided to let him keep the rest of my good weed as an "I'm sorry for being a drunk ass ho" consolation prize.
I consider any night I don't make out with someone a bad night. So I've been great.
Update: they told me I was twerking to twenty one pilots
Never. No amount of alcohol could convince my brain and eye sight that it is okay to fuck him. I'd rather fuck my cousin.
Randomize
