If my vag had twitter, what do you think it would say?
Apparently last night I sat at the bar with an upside down sharpie lightning bolt on my forehead, yelling "It's Harry Potter's birthday! Let me be on the qudditch team!" And I kept calling the bartender Dobby. There are videos.
I don't call you at 3 in the morning to start a fucking relationship.
judging by the cake all over the hall, my neighbors had a pretty successful thursday too.
you know, even black out drunk I can always remember the exact point where I should have stopped drinking.
the bar just sent me a facebook message congratulating me on being a regular and getting such good grades. my life is not real.
My day may involve a drug pinata. I LOVE MY LIFE.
Someone is in my phone as "fireball girl" and keeps texting me. How do I go about finding out who it is?
HELP A SISTER OUT. AND KEEP YOUR TONGUE OUT OF THE HUMMUS.
TOO HIGH TO FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT
Do you think I shall pursue this journey to the center if the dick?
My vagina is screaming your name . Wtf did you do to it
Look, you don't know disfunction until you've sat on the john taking a shit and crying while totally sober.
I had to carry him up the hill while he was wearing nothing but knee high socks and a blue glitter sequin leotard.
Why is this not a picture message?
By the time I realized I was watching a Danish porno with muppets it was already too late
I just found vampire teeth and a moustache in my purse. do you know why?
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