Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
I'm at the cafe. It's 7am. There is a girl I don't know on my futon who tried to tickle me this morning when I got down from my loft. I also not wearing any underwear.
i'm too stoned to be pregnant. the kicking is morse code for wanting beef jerky.
They let me out of the holding cell just in time for me to get the morning-after-pill. Rock bottom feels even worse with all those hormones.
I'm bleeding from my lower lip, and I have bruises around my neck. It was just easier to say I got mugged.
Let's just go topless and paint glitter over our nipples who the fuck cares
all 3 of us brought blondes home last night. all 3 are passed out. we're gonna switch rooms and see how long until one of them notices.
Sorry for my penis texting you last night, I can't control what he wants at 4am.
They're making him take his shirt off cause they think he's the bouncer. We're in his backyard.
You're the third person who's asked me for an afternoon blow connection in one day. Unreal.
That's more of a you-issue than a me-issue
Remind me to tell you a really funny story about me and arson.
Do you think blood ever gets sick of carrying all these drugs around?
Like, there are so many different things we make it do, and it just wants to settle down and be a one-drug fluid?
Stop reading WebMD high.
I had 17 beers 2 days ago. I'm not dad material yet
What is it about fresh air and wanting to talk about penises
we have beer and we're watching the birds have sex in our yard.
Randomize
