There are traffic cones in the living room. One of them is yours.
i opened her purse and found 4 bottles of vodka tampons and an unopened box of birth control...
You should probably wake up already as I have yet another story for you. Teaser? Blood from knife wound. Tequila. Guitar hero. Kitchen counter. Lawyer.
I vaguely remember taking a shit behind the shed before I started puking over the fence. No more Xanax.
This is probably the only time in my life I'm going to be able to say I'm going to the hospital too smoke weed and play Mario kart.
if creating a fake 8 year old brother, who lives with me and has had mono for the past month, to explain why I have ignored my group project members is wrong, then I... well then I'm probably going to hell
Update- I sold my hat to some drunk kid for 50 bucks. I used my earnings to buy beer on the way home. I realize to everyone else seeing me drinking on my balcony at 6am, I look like an alcoholic, but I'm thinking of it as a night cap
No, your dick is problems. Anyone you fuck haunts us for the rest of the semester. If you need to get laid, I'll personally drive you out of state.
we're decorating our christmas cookies with birth control. so pretty.
I feel that my cleavage set an unattainably high bar for 2013.
Thing I actually said tonight: "I want to achieve Ultimate level drunkenness, I'm only at Champion"
His pillow talk sucks. It was like Mr. Roger's vagina.
Do they mail horrible human being awards or do I have to pick it up or what's the protocol on that shit
My one regret (beside the inevitable shit storm that followed) is that now I can't fuck his cute friend.
Did I send you a drunk selfie with a pine tree last night?
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