The party tonight has no theme but I decided to go as a home wrecker.
Wine + wine + wine + wine + bud light = puke.
U sang "shots, shots, shots" then walked 2 ur top drawer and threw socks everywhere singin "SOCKS, SOCKS, SOCKS!"
there's a sledge hammer in the bottom of the swimming pool... so whatever happened last night was probably awesome
he found you with your pants down, trying to straddle the urinal. no one should have to see their sister like that. ever.
remind me not to fuck anymore half bald 20 year olds. because obviously there's attachment issues
well that explains the french fry and ketchup packet rolled into the wasitband of my sweats. thank you drunk me.
Nothing says Welcome to America than having the international house watch a sorority girl puke over the edge of the porch at 8am.
don't judge, it's breakfast wine Wednesday.
I'm lost. Please come find me. I'm inside the I-270 circle somewhere. I can hear laughing.
No seriously stop! I feel bad for him. It isn't even big enough to make fun of. It's so small that it's like a disability.
Ok- my dad's ex-wife's Irish nephew. Weird if we fuck or not?
The next time you try to drunkenly strip me in public let's make sure it's not anywhere near the daiquiri factory or a group of police officers.
I desperately wanted to wear your shirt.
I just picked up my phone and one shoe from the man mowing the lawn next to the ice rink. He found them in a tree.
Who's phone is in my pants and why did I wake up clutching a handle of vlad?
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