You know it's time to leave Spain when you are back and forth between Skype and a Spanish dictionary trying to figure out out to say "I can still smell you on my skin."
ed mcmahon, farrah fawcett, and michael jackson all in one week. What next god, are you juts gonna take my penis too?
Balcony sex scratched the shit out of my phone. Whups.
I'm really tired of your booty call eating my fruity pebbles.
Today's hangover is a "wear sunglasses while pooping in the dark" kind of day
you were trying to convince me that you weren't drunk by grabbing my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes and saying "i can see your sparkle"
He is what would appear if the douche troop all had rings and we summoned someone like the Captain Planet kids.
"Little drunk?" Honey you were "livetweeting" Sublime's "Sublime" album while it was playing in his car, and at one point you said you hoped they play Santeria. "Little drunk" doesn't cover it.
If I had your job the next day id be on the news. And not the good news. Like fox & friends. Nancy grace would have my ass.
Running my fingers through my hair is like that scene from Patch Adams where the girl goes swimming in a pool of spaghetti. I love molly.
No. Way more drunk than the night I put a snowball in my purse "for later" and woke up to find everything soaking the next day.
But less drunk than the day that Pete took four of your birth control pills thinking they were Advil, right?
The last thing I remember is talking to the firefighter next to me and he was giving me fruit.
This is not the first time I've recognized my body is subconsciously trying to make pizza.
When I type "sleep" my phone suggests "with Trevor". My phones an asshole.
I love when Facebook suggests people I may know. Well, yeah, I know him. He's my drug dealer. Pretty sure I want to keep that relationship strictly professional.
Randomize
