I wanna get so fucked up that I try to catch a coyote in a pillowcase, breakdance fight a lion, and send back some toast at Denny's when I see its slightly burnt.
What's the point in getting all dressed up and going when i'm just gonna throw up on myself by midnight?
Its Friday night, and I'm sitting at home watching are you smarter then a 5th grader, drinking vodka. I got every single question wrong. Clearly you see where I'm headed in life.
I feel like I should lick our pitcher just so everyone knows its ours
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He's a waiter, looks 15, and told me he loved me after only talking to me for 30 minutes. I told him I wanted a margarita. We got 3 free pitchers. I may have to make this our regular Wednesday night hangout.
On an unrelated side note: I shall now attempt to crawl to the bathroom. Where I will lay motionless on the cold ceramic bathtub with hot water pouring over my shivering body as I desperately try not to vomit. Good day.
don't judge, it's breakfast wine Wednesday.
Oh I forgot to tell you that while you were in the bathroom last night I made friends with a gay man named Rodger from Venezuela and he kissed me cheek and told me I "knew how to shake my thing". From now on we go to the bathroom as a team.
His wife made me pancakes and let me borrow a clean shirt. Should I drop his class or use this to my advantage
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The lowest point of my life has been reached. I just drank half a jar of pasta sauce.
I just wanted to check in on you and you replied with a selfie with your Coney Island waiter and the caption "after his shift we're dropping acid together"
I literally wonder, frequently, "Will anyone ever fuck me until i go cross eyed for 2 hours again?''
He told me to be a woman and make him dinner. So I threw a bagel at him and went out to dinner.
Congrats on dating a convict, there's no fitbit badge for that one.
While strippers were eating ones out of my boobs, several sources claimed trump shared classified info with the russians. We should get hammered on Mondays more often, bitch.
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