I just tipped a bartender in xanax.
I'm doing a half mile walk of shame carrying a trash bag and still very drunk. Save me. I feel like a refugee.
the trail of clothing leading from the bed to the door was in the exact order i needed to put them on. underwear near the bed shoes by the door.
You blacked out and walked in on my neighbor breast feeding at 3am yelling "where is my best friend". I think we should go apologize.
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Times like this, when you talk openly about Tinkerbell being your spirit animal, are times when I'm allowed to question your sexuality.
There is only one good excuse for how sore I am right now. And that is incredibly acrobatic sex. Unfortunately for me that is not my excuse.
He appeared on my 7th floor fire escape and sang to me and jimmy through the window when we fucked. He's like a drunken mix of Sinatra and Spiderman.
I really gotta be careful. My email inbox is equal parts notifications from instructors and this dude's dick. If I get drunk and reply to the wrong thing I might get kicked out of grad school.
You picked a jagger girl up claimed her then walked out the door with her that was the last we saw of you
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Things are burning & the world smells of peanut butter. It's beautiful.
On the way out the door to work grabbed the wine glass on the floor left for the ghost of Elijah and chugged it. PASSOVER.
I sent dad a photo of my graduation certificate from drug therapy class. It was his birthday so it seemed appropriate.
its gotten to the point where if her hand isn't on my butt i think we're in a fight
This country song on the radio just had a rap break. What. No. Why.
I'm praying to the gods of sex we both get laid this weekend. Amen. Love you
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