I seriously need to stop naming my lingerie sets after the boys I wear them for. I seriously just asked mom if she put Brett in the dryer
I really hope he dies in a tragic kegstand mishap
It was so weird. I had like an out of body experience. I heard the moaning, but I didn't know it was me.
He just walked into my room in a robe with a cooking pot of cereal.
Who knew that one of those cheesy light up equalizer shirts would be the light that all those drunk college girls gathered like moths around?
The number of injuries I get impersonating Shakira while drunk is getting ridiculous. Sprained vagina, dude.
I have dibs on his crisis of faith.
I need to pack up my vagina and leave. We only do bad things together.
I got a blowjob dressed with a t shirt sweatpants and a Fanny pack. Not kidding.
Sorry about flashing you in front of your mom.
I wish they would just make alcoholic protein shakes already.
Literally the only clue I have to try and figure out my blackout adventures is a draft on twitter that just says "Mummies alive!"
If I learned anything from that one time I saw the last 10 minutes of oprah when they talked about the secret, it is that you project what you receive back. I also have wine.
He asked me the next morning if he fell asleep inside of me. Drunk is an understatement.
Like, my vagina is jet-lagged.
Randomize
