A freshman just referred to Home Improvement as 'tim the tool man show'. People born after 1990 are not people.
You layed on my kitchen floor with a pile of m&ms at your crotch, said "your lightbulb don't match, is that one new?"
I don't even want to talk about it, I'm traumatized. Even the dog knew to take advantage of the most intoxicated girl at the party...
his eyes are fucked up, he bumped into the cabinet while standing in my office, and he's pounding chicken soup, and he must have chewed on 8 pieces of gum before he got here.
I was going to make out with him...then he licked syrup off the kitchen floor.
I woke up with the suicide hotline number saved as 'Hot Guy Josh'
I'm drunk, we're losing, and I'm in the visitors stands. This is about to get ugly.
Why must everything this weekend have to do with something going into or coming out of my vagina?
If you hear a sad honk in the wind it is me.
There was this blissful moment of peace and quiet... then you ran past our window with a lit firecracker in hand going, "SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!"
I can get there in 20, one question, Drress Code? Stripper Lite (make up may require an additional 5-10 minutes), Suggestive Professor (professor Kamil's cleavage ain't got nothing on me), Daywear, Dyke (and trust me you ain't seen dyke), or Exactly What I'm Wearing Right Now. (all of the above may arrive under a coat and are subject to my level of sobriety. Which is currently like nonexistent).--xoxo you know you love me, Gossip Girl.
fuck off. It's 10am and I'm drink gin and ginger ale through a twizzler straw. My life is marvellous
Noo not in a booty call way, in a 'How are your abs and penis doing today?' sort of way.
I'm on a party bus with a stripper pole with middle aged women who have all started drinking
God bless your soul.
Somehow I don't think offering me edibles is what dad meant by checking in on me
They're the hard candy kind!
Randomize
