For a day that started with shitting my pants, things turned out fairly well.
You know its going to be a good homecoming when you beer bong a mimosa at 6am.
He just left me a message saying he left the rest of the weed for me. Did i just get paid for sex? And if yes did i just get paid in drugs?
Ah that type of Dick. I think my phones trying to make me less of a whore by capitalizing Dick. That way it looks like I'm talking about a dude not penis
I just smoked my last bit of kief with a grill lighter. This is what crackheads must feel like.
I left myself a trail of jello shots, that ended at his door. OR maybe he left me a trail of jello shots at his door. DO I GO IN!?
I mean, I'm twenty four years old and I've never paid for my own drink. You can't say that any of your ex girlfriends boobs are THAT great.
Yes, he made a MIX CD for our booty call...
Where the hell is he. I called him crying for weed and sex you would think that would signal some urgency.
The sense of comroderie I've built with my liver over the course of this semester is beautiful
PUT YOUR FRESHLY SHAVED MEXICAN POON ON THAT BEARD. NOW.
Then she looked me straight in the eyes and asked me if I missed my foreskin. Weirdest conversation ever.
I'm not saying I would have to be high to sleep with him. I'm just saying it would probably help.
Because making bad decisions is what makes our house great and I don't plan on changing that anytime soon.
Drunk you needs to learn how to call sober me, so sober me can talk your drunk vagina down.
Randomize
