I just realized I use Twitter to keep of track of when I get drunk.
She's gonna be fat in the future. On a side note I had a "It's not you, it's me." conversation with a bottle of jack last night.
At home depot. Final room inspection is tmrow, gotta paint over the puke stains
you both peed in the photobooth after the pictures were taken.
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You tried to initiate "Occupy McDonald's" when the cashier didn't give you enough ketchup.
I am too drunk to deal with your everything. Reread this everytime you feel the need to talk to me.
I'm going to die alone in my chair and get eaten by my cat. That kind of break up.
He hasn't responded, but he probably just jizzed in his shorts again, so I'll give him time.
FOUND: my underwear in the cabinet above the toilet. What the actual fuck.
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Wanna shave the hair on my back? If you're offended I was joking, if not I'll bring booze and maybe you can do other regions too.
My one night stand just messaged me and said he is praying for me...
We should try to put a bagel on your penis
there is a smiley face on my leg painted in blood
I'm pretty sure that's yours.
You both snapchatted me that. Like, I just got a double dose of penis pastry.
A million fucking miles away, and the sun still manages to fuck my hungover mornings up.