my number is 615-555-1212, <3 your favorite asshole
Sitting at a red light. Windows are down. I'm blasting Gaga's "Disco Stick" and doing an interpretive dance to it because I think I'm hilarious. Look to the left and see two Phi Delts that I know with their windows down. They are horrified. I am probably going to lose their Facebook friendships.
So. She dumped me today.
Well, maybe you shouldn't have referred to going down on her as "Dumpster-Diving".
"It's not a date, we're just spending the entire day at a concert and then getting high together." Awesome.
You have found the Promised Land of friend zones
Last night's dream consisted of you, me, a sauce pan full of cocaine and light sabers. I almost cried when I woke up.
I was so high. I had so much hair. It was like all my hair follicles exploded.
I'm in my onesie attempting to spoon-feed myself cold soup. I'm playing freeze tag with my hangover. My hangover's winning.
Blizzard, Hour 9: I'm 7 beers deep and have finished Ninja Turtles. I am listening to the NYPD and Nassau Fire Dept pipes and drums and writing new drum scores in my head, which I may or may not remember tomorrow
Was just told that I slept on the counter using a loaf of bread as a pillow. Clearly my life is going well.
God is tempting me with everything tonight. Brownies and dick, mostly.
This kid wants me to stop partying. Like I have only known you for 5 days. Chill.
one nice thing about being home: no walks of shame, just drives of shame
I've just realized that today's rations have consisted of turkey bacon and jack Daniels.
And now Google thinks I have a hard hat fetish...maybe I do...
Listen, yo... we need to have a serious conversation about this Dollar Store toilet paper. Because if I’m going to finger someone’s ass, it’s not going to be my own.
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