weed, chlorine, and victory. my bed smells like i had sex with michael phelps.
For some reason, Oliver from Hannah Montana reminds me of pudding.
That's cute.
pouring popcorn down my shirt before we went to the bar was the best idea ever. it was delicious and convenient.
Remind me tomorrow to take that ball-gag out of my purse.
how you manage to cockblock me from 500 miles away still baffles me.
I want the one making out with the dumpster. Is that bad?
After a couple hours you decided you were going to walk home but ten minutes later you called and said you'd puked by the side of the road and you needed us to drive you to the art museum.
The amount of alcohol I'm going to consume on my birthday is directly proportional to the amount of shit I've had to put up with this past year. Which is a lot.
This is the Santa Claus of hangovers. It just keeps giving.
Sometimes I'm sad but then I realize that bagels.
We made out and he didn't grope me. I liked it. I felt like I was innocent again.
He told me was "pretty like the wife in some movie where the husband is a cheater." I think I'm gonna fuck him.
It's like everybody loves Raymond but the total opposite and everyone wants him to die
I mean, don't most people have like a two week grace period where it's okay to ditch new friends?
Nah, i wasn't offended. Having a bridesmaid who you had had multiple threesomes with your future husband would be weird.
Randomize
