I'm drunk at a fancy martini bar, wearing jeans, drinking cheap vodka that I brought in my purse. Got thrown out of court for using my cell phone. All in all calling Thursday a success.
I got otter pops to cool the beers, it's an all around better idea.
Nothing says Welcome to America than having the international house watch a sorority girl puke over the edge of the porch at 8am.
There is nothing quite so pathetic as sitting in bed in your underwear eating easy mac in complete silence, waiting for Netflix to load
In my dream, you became a famous tap-dancer. Congratulations.
We're now referring to our nightly Skype time as "strokes of genius." Long distance sucks.
But if I live with you I'll help pay rent. Only if you promise no 50 shades of what the fuck internet hookups
I've decided to give up hard drugs for the rest of the year.
Ps. I'm slapping the bag. It's an emergency.
I came home and my mom goes "why are you barefoot and where the hell are your shoes?" and I replied "I have French fries"
Beard. Chest hair. Job.
The holy trinity.
on a scale from 1 to "can't put a toothbrush in your mouth without gagging" how hungover are you?
I'm just too horny to handle empty house
But then our conversations are like black box recordings. Just the stuff you hear when the plane is going down
Is it weird that I shop for lingerie by thinking if it will look good on both me and your floor?
No. Not at all.
Randomize
