i have nine cents in my fucking bank account... not even a dime
My dog ate my bag of weed. Thats not the easiest call to the vet to make.
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
Its mothers day and I have choke marks around my neck. Thanks for that.
If fate has that penis in my future.....I'm down.
I also tried to drunkenly adopt a kitten last night. It didn't pan out.
He said to me this morning that we should finish these beers, go and get plan B then on the way back, go to the pub to celebrate the death of our baby. I love Manchester.
I started making breakfast to subdue the hangover and last of the shrooms and only got as far as eating a half frozen pierogi out of a dixie cup.
Got hereat 8. Had 6 beers 2 shots and a game of diZZY BATOS
So it turns out rose was the bear hunting girl. Fuck my life
None of those words made sense together.
Alright. I will breast feed the first person to get here.
He's drinking on a hospital bracelet, the fuck's your excuse?
I'm out of milk so I'm dunking my Oreos in Bailey's; this is my life now.
I basically go to him for great dick and great memes.
If I could tell my younger self three things it would be: 1. Smoke a lot more weed 2. Have a lot more sex 3. Own a good set of pots and pans
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