The good thing about walking home in a dress on sunday morning is that people mistake my walk of shame as a walk to God.
I managed to convince my mom that my hickey was a birth mark I have always had. She cried for an hour about being a terrible mother for never noticing it.
oh hey summer self, welcome to endless thirsty thursdays and walks of shame.
You texted me "Americans are sad" and "chicken coop disaster" without any further explanation.
you called me in the middle of the night, wandering the streets, in search of "the ultimate burrito"
Sweet and genuine is kinda lame. I'm more of a bust all over your face and hair kinda guy.
Uhm the hair is off limits bro, conditioner can only go so far.
Bro? You just made it a target.
I was barred out and drunk as fuck locked out at 3am in my Indian costume. It was literally freezing outside. I laid down on the concrete and made a bonfire with dry leaves. Then proceeded to ask.the.bonfire nicely to "please dont go out". Drunk me went strait up survival mode.
What do you need? A swimsuit and a liver of steel? What else?
We are a team. I lure them in with my tits, feed them enough alcohol to consider homosexuality, and hand them off to you.
You're the best wingman ever.
I mean, I love her. But not "I'll have a threesome with her." Type of love.
Somewhere out there, on several phones belonging to strangers, exists a video of me rapping Baby Got Back on stage in four inch heels that I stole from the drag queen. Also I made out with the chick with the octopus tattoo.
You have the best birthdays
It is not a successful senior year unless you show up to campus without pants at least once, right?
So high, just applauded for a magic trick on Hulu.
Girl, he's like catnip for my pussy.
Glitter fights sound a lot funner in theory.
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