I spent my night drunkenly staring at a picture of John Stamos. How do you think I feel?
Taped crackers to the wall. Sat I'n the dryer. Bobby had to pull me out by my hair. No more.
If I were there, I'd be putting a martini in you, via funnel if need be, and you would be doing this thing.
Gravity stopped and i'm discussing Greek philosophy with two guys I don't know. There's someone asleep on me. We need to use their dealer.
The waitress just told me I'm asking alot. So far I've asked for a soul, an angel and carbombs
six ambien and a bong later...he was calling me blueberry princess who need rescuing from the evil oven, and he was sir Eatsalot.
Also I think I'm starting to get calluses on my hands from my level of sexual activity
Delete that photo of me. My ass looks WAY to good it in to be on Facebook for everyone to see. You gotta earn that shit.
But how will the next generation learn about life choices without a Jersery Shore?
Those drunk pictures you took of me? My mom is showing those to my grandparents.
You might have been able to redeem yourself had you not referred to grandma as "this bitch".
That explains the hand print on my face. That old lady knows how to throw a punch.
I know it's my dream I got hurt enough to leave work but not hurt enough to stop drinking
I called 911 when they kicked me out of the bar last night.
If those panties could talk.
"Once upon a time, Jenny got chlamydia from a magician. The end."
He lives 20 minutes away driving distance and decided to walk. I talked to him today and he took a nap along the way... In a cemetery.
Randomize
