he smells like the inside of heather mills' fake leg
He says he's "masters drunk." And if that's anything like "kentucky derby drunk" I know enough to not go over there.
These people keep looking at me like I'm the first person to ever eat ribs in a Home Depot.
I'm now at that point where it just feels natural to do a few shots of whisky with breakfast and then head to work
I walked in on you eating olive oil off of a plate. you gave me this look and I just started crying. we were that drunk.
I'm wearing red that night.
Noted, what shade?
Whore.
I've just stalked all the hot guys who have clicked "attending". I now know which guys are "yes", "maybe" and "no". I only hope my drunk self remembers.
the parade is in 5 days. put your big boy pants on and come to beer training. time to build your tolerance. i can't have you passing out in a bush with a cape on again this year.
He and I are basically the same person, except he has a glorious penis and I have glorious breasts.
I need to stop drinking alone, I wrote a love letter to my tattoos
in the future when you find clothing in your street, just assume it's mine.
It's always great when the guy I get pills from sends me an email that says "I know you will get clean it's going to be hard but I know you can do it"
I just chased my birth control with Smirnoff. Shit's about to go down.
Aww you are cute. With your penis. And failures.
Replacing my paralegal is easy. Replacing my favorite office fuck toy is a totally different story. Damn him for wanting to better himself instead of being my manwhore
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