I just told my doc I would like to talk about my drinking problem, but that it would probably get in the way of my weekend plans.
It smells like weed.
We are in Boulder, Everything smells like weed.
I'm bringing poparts in case anyone gets hungry. The trek to frat row is strenuous.
He was passed out on the floor holding a beer can, rolled over switched hands and never spilled a drop. We need to practice.
i'm not the one sitting naked in my room playing with my boobs and a cat.
he kept doing his monologue, "if a vagina could talk."
I'm mentally preparing my vagina for this semester. It's fucking welcome week. I'm going to be talking to her all night.
It's that "make a Pringle and Twinkie sandwich" kind of depression.
He just invited me over to bang on a sunday afternoon. If I can make it top the time I went to a strip club on fathers day then I'll consider it a success.
You were stoned out of your mind. We were eating cold cuts and you wouldn't shut up about how it was the wettest meat you'd ever felt in your life.
I'm eating Doritos at 9am because last nights weed is just now starting to wear off
I fought a guy last night because he said "extra pulp orange juice is the best orange juice"
I think I'm dead. Also I think I stole $20 from a stripper.
You did. Then gave it to me.
I'm going to force her to break up with me this week. Tonight I plan to shit the bed. If that doesn't work I'm not sure what's next.
Look. All I'm saying is that if the USWNT can win a shit ton of medals and have two gay love stories with happy endings, there's still hope in this world
Randomize
