Me. At least after what I've been through.
my "about me" section on Facebook should read "hell-bound alcoholic who wants to fuck a 40-year-old crackhead"
whatever sunny in Philadelphia does on Thursday nights, I'm doing all weekend.
she was seriously choking and the whole time all he kept saying was "that's what she said"
I feel bad for the next person that's gonna live in my room. There's so much semen on the carpet
Remember when we pinky swore we'd never feel hungover alone...
I just used my glow stick from the dance to find my way in the bathroom to puke. Who wants me on their corporate team
We didn't talk. I watched you drop an egg on the floor. And watched you praise your haunted broom.
He says he invented a new sex move called The Redbird that we can only do when I'm on my period. Should I be concerned?
She followed me back, then proceeded to find my room, get her panda suit on? And then raid my room and pass out on my couch... what the fack do I do now?!?!
I'm straight up riding in the back of my truck in a bean bag chair right now. Feet propped up and four loko in hand. Glorious.
I tried to smoke out of half a banana, and lit my nose hair on fire. So I feel like that sums up my life pretty well.
I achieved maximum drunk last night. It was pretty extreme. Woke up on a couch, outside, in a suit
MY LIFE IS A TRAINWRECK THATS ON FIRE BUT SOMEHOW STILL MOVING, I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SCREAM OUTSIDE AT 2AM
what color bed sheets say meditative warrior but also welcome to my sex dungeon...
navy blue
The fact that you have an answer to that is why we are friends...
Randomize
