So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
He measures volume by how much weed he can put in it and surface area by how many people can have sex in it.
I mean this holiday was built on cheap beer, shitty whisky, and processed meat... and I fully plan to honor that
Gin and redbull in a wine glass. They think I'm keeping my wits with a really yellow Chardonnay. Gonna get ugly after a couple.
I feel like after that many guys, all of the water in your body is just replaced with pure jizz, honestly.
There are flashing lights and a man dressed as Santa with a bullhorn in my cul de sac.
I'm not sure if this is awesome or scary.
I feel like just to watch it, I need to be high. To understand it, I'd need enough drugs to kill an elephant.
Yesterdays boozy weather forecast has been extended to today
Woke up fully clothed in bed sleeping on my purse.....we're back!!!
The sense of comroderie I've built with my liver over the course of this semester is beautiful
The alcohol just runs so smoothly thru my veins.
I put my hydrocodone prescription in my cereal box its like real lucky charms
Hyyypothetically, what would you do if you happened to see my boobs on the internet?
She had sex with a starfish painted on her face. Thank you Halloween
You microwaved all of my silverware, I don't care if you spent all your money on tequila, you're paying for this.
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