i just had 3 doubles lined up on top of a urinal, texting with one hand and my dick in the other. I an fucking awesome.
I feel like if I were on Intervention, I would have to be a season finale.
Clearly, I'm already going to hell, so there's no point in trying anymore.
I got to the apartment, I was handed a beer within 20 seconds, I'm glowing in the dark, there's fog everywhere, and now I'm wearing a sombrero because apparently it's silly hat night. I never want to leave.
On the bright side, at least we arent the generation raised by fucked up teen moms.
My dry heaving is complicating my ability to speak.
Whiskey shot with bacon bits, our version of Goldschlager WE ARE TRYIN IT.
Believe it or not, Travis and I simultaneously breaking beer bottles over eachothers heads was not a good idea.
You look me right in the eyes and yelled "By the power of the superglue beer sword, I designate you my driver!" I almost felt honored.
Found plan b box covered with blood. In kitchen sick. Pickle jar is empty. Wtf happened?
He and I are basically the same person, except he has a glorious penis and I have glorious breasts.
He wouldn't let me leave his house until he made me orgasm once for every year I've been alive. The birthday sex song did not prepare me for this.
Prob because you've thrown up alot. As long as its not like pure blood you're fine. Drink water.
sitting in the prison waiting room in my boyfriends clothes. looooong story.
He had a tattoo of the Batman logo around his asshole. I noped right the hell out of there.
Randomize
