My whole home page is your drunken face booking, congrats.
i felt like cinderella. except at midnight i turned back into a whore.
Pants on the Ground is the theme song of my life
Her boobs looked like leather oven mitts. No more cougar hunting for awhile.
I think i just got paid for sex with a hot pocket... and i accepted
I have a plus one for the Blackout Express, should I pen in your name?
She's walking around topless with a bottle of red wine, crying and singing showtune ballads. This is actually an improvement.
we are sitting in a kindergarden classroom alone chugging beer. look at our lives. look at our choices.
My password hint says "not sunset, also facebook." i need to stop doing computer things while high. I will never figure this clue out.
In his defense he just bought a bong like a week ago so he's still in that honeymoon phase.
When you called me you were telling a hobo that you couldn't spare ten bucks bc that was your beer money. All your words were slurred.
Fuck him.
Turns out the average person our age has never run from the cops. Life: we're doing it right.
Went to the elf storage building to help him get his old dresser. Found his brother's stash in the drawer and ended up passed out w him on the mattress in there instead.
I'm not asking for life coaching, I'm just asking if you know where I left my underpants.
Election Day 2016 shall forever live in infamy as the day when I hobbled through my neighborhood, mascara melting down my face, wearing one slipper and a cast, blood and cum all over my skirt, carrying a box of wine, and no one even noticed.
Randomize
