I woke up naked in my living room and my mom was next to me like we need to talk
whatever. i fb stalked him and his pic comments are witty. so i'm going for it.
i cant text you anymore tonight, God gave me two hands for two cups
I used his computer to order the pizza and the only thing he had in his search bar was 'text NASA'
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I would have screamed and cried and bled and shit and then died. Fuck that guy.
When we were done making out, some guy ran into the room yelling, "I'll save you Brandon! I'll save you!"
I've liked him since I puked on him on my birthday so I want it to be special.
I don't know. Something about answering "what did you do on Sunday?" Seems odd when the reply is, painted, went to the grocery store, put a restraint device on my bed.
I woke up in a poorly constructed blanket fort on a strange office floor covered in rug burns and champagne. How was your night?
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It just makes me feel nauseous. And I don't want to feel nauseous when all I really want is to get off.
My mom is currently drinking alone in our kitchen singing the Dixie Chicks to herself so, hey, alcohol is forever and we should not be shamed for its use.
I mostly blame me being such a miserable fuck on the fact that I was born on a Monday.
Rum and your dick are involved. You're relying on the unreliable narrator.
i just got hit by a door and im the one that said im sorry, yeah im drunk.
I need to start journaling my drunk thoughts. Drunk me is fucking brilliant & sober me is missing out.