Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
things it involved: vodka, boy parts, possible photos of me on a cell phone. things it did NOT involve last night: my bra, his pants, and sobriety.
Driving out to Plano is like driving away from your twenties
Today's life lesson: fat girls should not wear tight miniskirts and vinyl leggings. This Forever 21 salesgirl is a hot mess.
I have a voicemail from Mike at 1am. He starts to say something, but then throws up instead.
It's all fun and games until the last slice of pizza gets bong water spilled on it.
i woke up in the fire place with a lighter in my hand. if i would have died the night would have made up for it.
I just had a full choir singing the phrase pudding cup in my head. Too. Stoned.
and by clear my head i mean get drunk and cry myself into oblivion.
From now on I forbid you to refer to it as a "bed". From now on you must only use the phrase "sex wagon".
You left wolverine marks
I'm somewhere between sorry and proud
to drive Frat boys away, one just needs to cat-call at them. It makes their masculinity weaker, and yours stronger.
I puked in the back of my mom's new car because I had too much to drink at Chilis. I think I just hit rock bottom.
i thought this was a perfectly normal conversation between two adult men about why this children's cartoon is quality television but no you just gotta be talking shit again
Apparently I’m a terrible influence when alcohol is involved
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