It's pouring out. I am cold, wet, and miserable.... Kind of reminds me of our sleepover last night.
Lesson learned: don't hide your vodka in your little brothers toy box.
So I just watched the Lakers/Magic game so I could have something to talk about with him after we have sex this time
I just remembered Dan asking me all polite in the middle of sex "do you mind if I get behind you?" that was the most polite way I've been asked to do it doggy style
I only knew it was midnight because i got happy new years texts while i puked outside
i think i recognize dicks better than faces
I think all I remember saying is, "I love Chris Berman's voice" and then I passed out
Crashed the mayor's bday party, no list for some reason. Wore suits. Ludacris was there.
Woke up with eyeliner streaked down my face, glitter all over my bed, and holding half-eaten Jimmy Johns. Plus, my whole family's downstairs for Thanksgiving... Welcome to the shitshow that is my early 20s
You crossed every boundary on the boundary spectrum last night. You're like the illegal immigrant of drunk actions. No more holiday drinking for you.
By 11 pm the pants were off and there was no turning back. But on the bright side, you promised me your CDs when you died, you even signed a napkin saying so.
He's the only guy without a tacky accent I've seen in this southern dump in 6 months. Bangage was inevitable.
You're such a Yankee.
Nothing says I love you as your fiancé bringing back home your drunk brother from his own stag party
I may have just tried to argue quantum entanglement as the reason I was still in her bed.
Been there. Done that. Still have his t-shirt.
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