So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
Paul doesn't remember going to the bar and slept on someone's porch...doesn't know whose porch...maybe near Howard U.
Puking in one of the stalls, a guy ran in and started puking in the other stall... In between heaves we told each other our names; i found out that it was my old best friend that moved away in the 8th grade
she was pooping while we were on video chat. new level of love.
organizing the empties. That sober.
I always ask when they're due. It's the nicest way for me to let her know the rest of the world can tell she's putting on weight too
my last clear memory of the night was being offered a shot but having so much alcohol in my hands that someone literally had to pour it in my mouth for me. after that it pretty much skips to waking up face down and shirtless on my floor.
So do you want to hear how I got the hickey first, or how I got the black eye?
I almost spit out my drink. But only almost, because it was vodka. And you don't spit out vodka.
I'm either a high functioning alcoholic or I'm making the most of the fact that this is the last year that its socially acceptable to be black-out drunk five days a week.
He had to put his grandma's photo away before I tied him to the bed. She doesn't need to see any of that.
We figured you were on something when you said that your nipples couldn't hear the music.
It's my birthday, if I want to stay home, get stoned and watch the gameshow network, that's what I'm going to do.
She is carving a little coffin out of some wood for her hamster that died. I'm flying home tonight.
All I could think about was how many vaginas had been on the toliet that I was pukin in
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