Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
Sorry I had passed out by this time I think, with the chicken fingers ON my face in my bed, with all the lights on, and ketchup all over.
In case you were wondering, my scare crow is wearing your outfit from last night.
i just figured out how to balance my wine bottle on my boobs so that i don't have to tip it with my hands...breathing has new meaning
Either he was jacking off or having a seizure next to me in bed. Either way, I was too lazy to help.
oh my god. separately texting an Allie and an Ally while drunk is hard, and I'm climbed 1/2 way up a bridge pier.
some people popped out of a houseboat and asked us to their party. their houseboat IS A WEEDBOAT. it is full of weed they grow weed. EVERYWHERE.
he may or may not have motorboated me on the steps of the library of congress
If you come home and I'm pantsless with cake smeared all over my face, I'm sorry.
Oh, also as a concerning side note, my bra had drops of blood on it. So I don't know what the deal was, but someone I was around was definitely bleeding a decent amount.
just sex-dialed 911. that's 34 seconds of dignity i will never get back.
All I know, is I had green sex and beer and got driven home. That's it.
Apparently drunk me thought it was a good idea to buy $100 worth of band aids and stick them all over everything in the apartment.
He looks like a Mormon from a lifetime movie. Oddly I wanna give him a hand job
I found my wallet. Still have no idea when I put mad dog in my steel water bottle, though...
Randomize
