My grandpa is talking about laundry and he asked if i could run a "small hot load." Wow. I had to leave the room.
Just ran into my ex in the WOMENS bathroom. He said I did this to him. Swore he never wore my clothes but said he liked my skirt. I need vodka.
someone just puked in the library. they put up caution tape. i totally underestimated finals week.
I asked you how much you drank and you replied with "I don't know what kind of toothpaste I use."
So I found the perfect "Yeah I gained weight since high school but it went to all the right places" outfit for the reunion this weekend.
At this point the smell of shame has become my natural musk
I really need to create fewer "the time I was on drugs" stories for my future memoir, "my first year in San Francisco".
good luck with that
I went to the bathroom, came back, and my friend was sleeping leaning up against the stripper pole.
The international association of gay square dance clubs had a booth set up in the lobby of my hotel.
I'm excited for you as you venture towards new drug experiences
Status: mom bitching about grandma not shutting the fuck up, while not shutting the fuck up. Dear Jesus give me strength or more bourbon.
I know. I'm a saint. Saint of sitting on faces.
I'm at that stage of drunk where just imagining having sex makes me motion sick.
I was amazing, unlike anything he's ever experienced. I somehow made him feel young and old.and he never felt old before. He feels I will literally kill him. With my magic, lethal vagina.
I don't think I can get drunk, high or horny enough to even consider that
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