walking home from your place the other day I saw a man with a ponytail sitting on some church steps petting a plant
he should get drunk with us
hahaha he is wasted in math class right now and is drawing all the planets in order from the sun
He was streaking. We were hammered. We had roman candles. It only made sense to shoot them at him.
We started snorting MDMA at 3 in the afternoon...it was never going to end well.
He offered to drive me out of state to meet up with my fuck buddy. Like best brother in law ever.
I don't know what to be prouder of: the fact that last night i was able to successfully find my way home from evanston with 3-d glasses on, or that i was able to make my way around my house in the dark with my pants around my ankles
I have already decided that it happened in an alternate universe since both of the people involved don't remember it and we only have the word of a sober person that it happened at all
arnt you supposed to become a mature adult when you move out of your parents house?
Moving out doesnt mean I'm mature, it means I can make pancakes and bacon at 3 in the morning and no one can judge me.
I just soaked a sugar cookie in nail polish remover to clean off my nails because I was too lazy to walk to the bathroom to get a cotton ball. Is this what rock bottom feels like?
There's a website where you can order a pile of horse shit to be dropped on a persons doorstep. So that's another option.
He wanted me to choke him with my feet. So now I feel obligated to start writing my memoir
That portion can talk about stepping out of your comfort zone and how it can potentially kill people
I hate ovaries. They're horrible little sacs of satanic enmity.
That's the most poetic description of female anatomy I've ever heard.
That's a lot of judgement coming from a man wearing a dress made from a bedsheet.
Every time I download Tinder again, I hate myself a little more.
There's wax on my nightstand, my sheets look like Christmas, and my vagina feels like it got into a fight. All signs of a good night
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