The saltiness of my tears mix perfectly with the tequila.
They thought we spoke German and French even though we just kept repeating "I give to you a cat" and "Are you drunk?"
The homeless guy out front said it's his birthday and he asked us to join him for happy hour after work. He's buying a fifth of gin to celebrate.
Oh my God. He stopped counting at 22.. His senior year. I feel the STDs infecting my taint as we speak.
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OH. MY. GOD. FUCK HIM. JUST GRAB HIM AND FUCK HIM.
Dear slutty diary: I lied about feeling guilty of being a homewrecker in order to have more sex. it worked.
somehow I feel like "adventures with cocaine and molly" wouldn't be an appropriate "How I Spent My Spring Break" essay topic.
One of the art pieces was basically this chick throwing raw meat at the audience, anyone who got hit (which I did) got a free shot of whiskey. It was worth it.
Came so hard my ears popped. This lovely piece of news and pissin in my driveway brought to you by rum
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And then I went through the chix filet drive through for breakfast in all my republican post sex glory
I was on antibiotics for a bladder infection and couldn't drink and you told me there was no longer room in your life for me.
so the casino kicked my ass last night, i'm pretty sure i hit a new level of hungover....just showered with my sunglasses on because the bathroom light is too bright
Did you happen to find the other half of my bra last night?
All I remember is your girlfriend laying on the bathroom floor and me crawling in and asking if it was okay to puke.
I'm at the drive thru window, five minutes out. If the bathtub is empty or you're dressed when I arrive I'm not sharing.
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