Those strippers last night smelled great. It was the perfect mixture of vanilla and daddy issues.
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 just saw a commercial for "tickle me elmo hands" and I am almost 100 percent sure that at the end elmo said "yeaaaaa boooyyyyyy"
I'm drinking while I write this paper. When I can't see the screen anymore I'm gonna come out
I've slowly been stuffing french fries down his pants. I'm at 31 and he hasn't even noticed.
I'm so covered in bruises. God dammit drunk me. We are a lady.
dude there's no way we're going back in there for your puke shoes
She made me be the little spoon then she pretended to be a jet pack for an hour straight
Left and drinking by a bar by myself. Everyone is in pajamas. I'm in a tuxedo. This is my life.
He brought wine and beer. I'll put my pants on for wine and beer.
I woke up this morning to a lot of blurry photos of a swan i must have chased down the riverbank and a handbag full of loose haribo.
Does the term "on fleek" apply to dicks or just eyebrows?
Someone just needs to roll me into a blanket burrito and feed me drugs
I haven't been single on my birthday for 7 years. If you don't get me laid tonight, your best friend/wing woman status will be revoked.
Fuck your bullshit loser kid and his gluten allergy.
Randomize
