Yeah. I hotboxed a windbreaker.
you have to give me like a days notice for these kinds of things, you cant just call at 9 am and expect me to be sober
eating kraft dinner with my face. no forks.
You're doing that 'overestimating how much I care' thing again.
im just laying here pukin in my mouth and swallowing it 'cause im WAY too lazy to actually get up and find a place to vomit. this is my life now.
No more fucking baseball tools. Walk-of-shamed home in only a pinstriped jersey and a Red Sox SnapBack.
Who is Katie and why do we have her birthday cake?
You may now shotgun with the bride
I had to steal sneakers from my man of the night. I dipped. But then realized I left my purse in his house. So I had to stash the shoes in some bushes and wait for him on the stoop. Then after he watches me leave, I run back and get the shoes cuz I didn't wanna be taking my hour long journey home through London at 3 pm in my six inch wedges and club dress
I'm gonna buy my dress an hour before wedding. You know, just to make sure it's gonna really happen.
T'would be a shame to waste that open bar though. They shouldn't do that to us. We've been having to pretend we're happy for two people who got engaged a week after they met.
My roommates don't agree with the whole tv in the bathroom idea. Fucking barbarians.
Do you know anyone else that comes home with unexplainable injuries as many nights a week as we do?
I feel like it's the kind of place that would appriciate my Aladdin vest
I duct taped a bottle of vodka to the back of your closet while you were sleeping in case of emergencies. Go rip it off, it's going to be a long night.
I accidentally just texted my dad asking if he wants to do shrooms with me. Do I leave the city now or...
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