yah I made NO friends last night. at one point i think i replaced talking with spitting
it was like the sexual equivalent of when Wilson fell off the raft and floated away
i found a twelve pack under my bed. and a six pack in my closet. I'm like a fucking alcoholic squirrel.
He tried to say "god bless your heart" to the stripper but it came out "god bless your pussy"
My boss just told me not to come back to work if I decide to drink. Challenge accepted.
I want to throw pennies on her stage, or just ripping up a dollor bill and throw them one at a time.
Pain in my heart, regret in my vagina
If your find a 12 pack on your doorstep consider it a gentleman's agreement to never speak of that night again
i have nothing going on in my life. unless a toxic love triangle with netflix and jack daniels counts.
Girl you know I'm an advocate of debauchery but you might wanna check yoself.
That awkward moment when you're drunk enough to crave cocaine, but you're sober enough to know it's only Tuesday.
lets face it, we have a liquor cabinet with a designated chocolate shelf
you said, "the pool was totally tequila. and i left my shoe halfway across town. and by shoe i mean car" it appeared to me that you didn't have your shoes or car.
Not going to lie, when I looked in the tub I expected to see what might have been remnants of a squirrel.
I'm cuddly bitch. Deal with it.
Randomize
