Jesus wouldn't steal pop tarts. So why did you?
He just called me juicy booty via text message.
They can be so fun, drunk bruises are like clues to the treasure of what actually happened last night. "why do I have a bruise on my belly button? oh right. i was trying to turn my stomach off so I would stop throwing up."
That dog was the best thing i ever touched
maybe her throwing up on me was a foreshadowing of how she would later metaphorically throw up on my life
We were fucking while the tv was on, and one of those animal cruelty commercials came on. We then switched over and started doing it doggy style. It was then that I realized that I'm going to hell.
no joke- she just sprinkled parmesan cheese into her champagne and slurred "I just need a little snack"
I'm closer to stabbing a fork in my neck than finishing this resume.
i just called my dad a bottom. he agreed
Great. Now I have to produce, edit and leak a sex tape before Saturday. Fundraising is hard.
Just cried because I'm out of oreos. This post-molly depression can go fuck itself.
If they could bottle a hangover it would taste exactly like lemon lime Gatorade and failed hopes and dreams
I'm on the Coaster ride of shame, currently sitting across two nice old ladies smelling like condoms.
I found out he hated a girl that I hate so I fucked him. My reasons for fucking guys are getting bad.
we were waffle house and a lady told me her imaginary friend was sitting in the chair next to her. i don't feel so trashy now.
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