my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
The shirt is mine, the pants are mine, the bra not so much
Plotting your own moral demise should not be this fun
It's not like I ment to feed you the shots of vodka, my hand just kinda slipped.
You can't possibly imagine how much I miss you. At least I'll always have that hidden folder in my computer.
He bought my favorite ceral.. I've guess I've earn the status as one of his regular fuck buddies. I feel honored and proud. His roommates girls don't get this treatment.
Someone downtown drunkenly stole the antenna off of her car... while she was driving.
I've decided I'm going to drink again. More. Day drinking. Night drinking. Everything. It's the responsible thing to do since I'm not pregnant
Strip mythology. Everyone wins. Most of all me.
On Wednesday I'm putting wine in a water bottle and crashing Margaret thatchers funeral
I really like your cover photo on fb that looks cool
In case birth mom friends me back, thought I should make it less drunk looking.
I almost drank vegetable oil. Where were you? I needed you.
I looked into this "it's just lunch" matchmaker thing and it was like 5 grand. If I'm gonna spend five grand I'll throw in another three and get new tits and find my own fucking husband.
Dude, I'm at a wedding and there's a mashed potato bar and bacon strip appetizers. I'm getting all emotional.
Coffee and girl scout cookies. Breakfast of champions.
Get fucked.
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