I have decided that a Nickelback cover band would be the pinnacle of loserdom.
Rolling one last joint on my Psych textbook before trading it in. I might actually cry.
Couldn't see or hear that well because she hit me on the back of the head with a bat. That is my excuse. Also the gin.
Random girl at this party just gave me a lap dance in a la-Z-boy. Night significantly improved.
Just write off about 10000+ brain cells and 6 months of your lifespan.
Sounds like a normal friday night
People around me are just doing lines of cocaine. Like its no big deal. And I'm just here like.... Y'all want some cheezits?
I reek of latex and grilled onions.
Mission accomplished.
I think I'm making a tradition of going to every funeral with at least one sex-related bruise. I don't know how this happened.
I know, my friend Erin took me into the bathroom at work and poured pickle juice on me.
Tuesday Boozeday turned into What-the-fuck-were-you-thinking Wednesday real fast.
I just wanna suck his dick on my balcony ya know
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
We need a kiddie pool and lots of cornstarch
He doesn't understand the concept of a strip club. He keeps falling in love
My boob job is like a master key that gets me in any door, any party and anyone’s pants! They’re magical!
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