Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
I feel like a fucked a broomstick last night. You get a gold star.
So here i am dipping ice cream in my vodka and watching the bad girls club on demand. This is not ok
YOU RECOMMENDED ME TO THIS GIRL BECAUSE SHES A STRIPPER AND YOU KNOW MY WEAKNESS FOR STRIPPERS WITH CHILDREN.
I'm so hungover that if we go to panera, I'll probably get a bread bowl to throw up in.
I meant to thank you again for giving up a potential interracial threesome to come to my party. I'm glad you stayed!
All I need right now is some mouthwash, dignity, and security camera footage...
I think Vodka is my favorite. Everything else ties for second.
Im calling you paparazzi cause of all the dick pics you take of your one night stands ps loved the panoramic one!
A man in a black on black escalade pulled up next to me, and told me he was sent to pick me up by you.
His name is Tyreece. He will take you to the weed emporium, population me.
NO. FUCK YOU. I HOPE SOMEONE REPLACES YOUR LUBE WITH HOT SAUCE.
Suffice to say, I think if people ask about your bruises, and you look them right in the eye, and say "they're from fucking...", people would be like, "respect."
I left my ice cream out over night, it's melted, fuck this, I just poured Bailey's in it. Problems solved.
I like that you're more concerned about how I would find the time to clone you, than the fact that I have your blood.
So apparently I tried texting you last night to tell you I wasn't coming home, but all I had typed were lyrics from Evita
Randomize
