my drunken desire to be gossip girl continues to ruin friendships for me
I have carpet burn on my ass, I'm rethinking my decisions last night.
Instead of centeral air we are getting a margaritaville machine. Thought you would enjoy our logic
I think I'm drunk. That wine was old. I found it behind the water heater next to the mouse poison.
I can't feel my brain.
He did the "not my house dance." Apparently it involves spreading cereal on the floor and then grinding into the carpet in bare feet while singing "not my house" over and over and dancing.
I'm buying drugs in the library...And it's not even finals time. What has my life become?
I took my exam the next day still drunk and failed, but I kno for a fact that I filled in the bubbles for my name perfectly
It was like the Alcoholic Olympics...double fisting fifths with eight 40s in my backpack...running from the cops in stilettos. I will have bitchin' hamstrings come Monday.
it was also funny because at one point I woke up with my hands tied with a belt and we were both like what the fuck
It's the eve of Christ's birthday and I'm sending pictures of my tits
I'm out of milk so I'm dunking my Oreos in Bailey's; this is my life now.
It feels appropriate that the wallet of my high school and college years would die at the hands of a spilled bong. Which in and of itself is a solid metaphor for those years.
Dear sober self, your keys are on the table in front of you the only way your typing this is with autocorrect goodnight love you
All our friends are getting married, and I'm the dateless guy bringing molly to their weddings.
I hate waking up to a room that reeks of bad decisions...
Randomize
