In retrospect, pretending to punch a 9 year old girl in the face was a terrible analogy to use in a piano lesson.
So I finally got the Patron washed off my boobs.
He told me he was ok to drive home. Then I found him face-planted in the parking lot.
Why are you speaking in third person?
Because I'm so hungover that I don't even want to be myself anymore.
Did you mean to cry when you finished last night? Or were you just that drunk?
It's a journey
And the destination is his penis?
Precisely.
I feel like our lives always have been and always will be a never ending drunken rampage full of pregnancy scares and lost brain cells
It's cuz all she eats is salt lick, human souls, and fast food
I feel like I might be the only person I know who eats bundles of radishes in-between orgasms from their vibrator.
Moral of the story - don't craft naked. Your nipples with thank me.
The prescription the hospital gave me for pain and nausea doubles for my hangovers... Maybe I'll hit up the ER more often
So high that I just walked into class, late, sat down in my desk, and tried to buckle my seatbelt.
I must stop trying to make out with my friends when I'm hammered.
I flashed my boobs, shit my pants, and kissed the wrong twin. I'm on a roll you don't want in on.
Optimism doesn't exist before 2pm nor do any other emotions.
Randomize
