get home. someone threw up in the fishtank last night.
while cleaning my room, i've found many wonderful things. one of these is the card you gave me for my eighteenth birthday. it's a christmas card that says "i want to stick it in your sponger"
"Hung over, tired and having a faint scent of some body butter and random pieces of glitter from a girl named gigi, almost arrested in drug bust, $40 Canadian in my pocket and all i got was this lousy Tshirt" shirts dont exist, but they need to
I found the other part of your tooth if you want to put it under your pillow
I mean, I don't even call it a hangover anymore. It's just morning.
It's only slutty when someone else does it. It's okay if it's us though
at the hospital. he locked himself in the kitchen, said he was making beer batter shrimp. don't know if it's the mercury poisoning, alcohol poisoning or second degree burns they're holding him for, but i've got a pretty guess.
the point of no return was when you "drugged" his drink with glitter. face-planting on his dick was beyond.
Holy christ fuck what has my trainwreck of a life come to just blew a 17 year old so help me god
I, soberly, gave myself a concussion trying to take a pic of my vagina. Fuck you and your hangover.
I'm only wearing socks and eating tuna, don't do this to me right now.
I used my dress as a plate for pizza rolls last night
Did this whole conversation happen while you were shitting?
I've officially slept through a hurricane, a tornado and had sex during an earthquake. I'm surviving.
Pretty sure I'm partying in a onesie right now.
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