So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
What ever happened to making out with a few boob grabs here and there?
Uh oh I Hage to dance yes, my feet are Whitney Houston
Nothing sez sunday morning like waking up in a phonebooth with a leg cramp.
One is full of apple juice. One is full of tequila. This is real russian roulette my friend.
at least you know where his tattoos end, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
you crashed our wine night double date and sat on the floor eating cheese talking about how big his dick is.
I couldn't sleep so I took 4 shots of vodka and promptly threw up in the sink. Happy Thursday
Fuck these runners passing me on campus as I'm waking to dinner. With my huggie. With flavored vodka and rum. Aka yum
I wrote myself a letter, like I think drunk me wants to be pen pals or something
I love you, and I just washed my hair in my work sink with handsoap.
I think I just read the whole internet. Front to back.
I had to put my dog down, accidentally outed my brother, and was given a fucking fish sandwich instead of a Big Mac ALL IN ONE DAY! Am I really the person you want to consult for advice? Hhhmmmmmm?
Theres a handprint of sauce on my fridge, one on my face, and a trail of it leading to my bedroom, and sauce all in my bed, and I have no idea what the fuck i ate.
We left Waffle House and he took off running five miles down the road saying we were "training for the Olympics." And I mean, I couldn't leave him out there like that...
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