Taylor Swift is so right about you.
My face smells like last night's lay. I need a whore bath. Or a corndog.
Nyc is like a mosaic of my failed dates.
He made me a "booty call of the year" award.
I can't believe we had "50th anniversary of man in space" sex.
Call me when you get up. This hang-over is like dismantling a bomb: I need someone to talk me through it.
Psh a bachelors degree is the new adulthood. We're all just pretending anyways. I'm sitting on my boyfriends couch while he's passed out drunk. In my lap. On a Wednesday. And he's a nurse. See, pretending to be an adult
I've decided that my night was probably over when I started eating the penne vodka with my hands.
Trust me. Drunk Scrabble is not a good idea. Arguments over the legitimacy of the word "Pickle" break out, things are said, friendships are ruined. It's ugly.
moms trying to set me up with a 28 year old. hes graduated university like im getting high in my bed and he's an adult
Awk. Hanging with her while messaging her ex about sex injuries he gave me
I imagine it like the scene in Sorceror's Stone, but instead of flying keys, it's flying dicks.
That is a dream.
I just sneeze out a chunk of leftover pickle I threw up last night. dont you try and tell me your day is going worse
I just watched my ex butt chug a quart of eggnog. Why did I dump her again?
It would be weird sobbing cry sex.
Randomize
