LA Sucks. The only way i can get laid is if i tell people im at a law firm that represent film producers.
And when they figure it out, they act like IM shallow.
The calves of my jeans are covered in jello shots from Sunday, how desperate do I have to be before I start licking them?
He appeared on my 7th floor fire escape and sang to me and jimmy through the window when we fucked. He's like a drunken mix of Sinatra and Spiderman.
Partial kegs from last night are currently in my bathtub, which leads me to 2 questions: 1. What are you doing tonight? 2. Can I use your shower?
I miss the time when Mondays weren't the new Thursdays. I can't drink like my 17 year old self anymore.
My gyno overestimated by 3 TIMES the amount of sex we have per week. First of all, he must think I'm a freak. Secondly, I think we should catch up.
there are not enough nopes in the world for that situation.
Life goal: sit on his perfect beautiful David Archuleta-lookalike face
My day so far: morning after pill and pancakes. Living the dream.
That awkward moment when you're drunk enough to crave cocaine, but you're sober enough to know it's only Tuesday.
I got the beer and the first aid kit. You get the tequila and burn cream. We should be set for the camping trip.
So I've already made 5 bad decisions today, wyd?
I’m traumatised. Bring vodka and condoms.
Its that time in the evening when I've had a few cocktails and wish you'd make a video about the packers and Jack Daniels.
Like he legitimately was standing straight up, feet on the roof, not holding on to a moving car.
Randomize
