So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
he told my vagina that he was looking forward to meet it
Walk of shame... his parents made me go to church with them first. in my club top sweat pants and slippers. i just slapped god in the face
noo you weren't that drunk. you just knocked the grill over and couldn't get the key in the door, so you climbed through the window. success.
She gained 35 lbs and has an ankle bracelet, time for new booty call.
He had me saved in his phone as "Dick Socket". Lets see if I ever fuck him in a bathroom again.
I actually don't know if I can stand up. I just know better than to try
You. Me. Frosting and a bed. Lets do this.
I have a breathe right strip stuck to my forehead, several inexplicable bruises and I think someone tried to paint my nails with glue, but I still have my Santa hat. I'm gonna call this one a success.
How was the party last night?
I'm dangerously close to shitting myself.
This guy has a theme song for the joints he rolls
That's so awful of me. Instead of comforting her I masturbated in front of my ex-boyfriend.
last night is slowly putting itself back together. Its one giant slutty puzzle, all the pieces are covered in tequila and shame.
Today is a good day to get high. It's easy to blame the glazed-over look in my eye on my new contacts
It baffles me why I still wear white underwear...
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