I'm sitting next to this guy at the bar. I wrote him a little song in my head it goes "there is no fucking chance you're getting in my pants" gonna sing it to him after he buys me another drink.
yeah seriously, fuck school. I'm changing my master's thesis question from "what are the neuropsychological correlates of antisocial personality" to "will my cat drink this beer"
i think the date started going downhill when i mentioned how many therapists i have
I woke up and he had cut my bangs and put makeup on me.
I don't care how good they make you look, you've got to stop sleeping with gay guys.
Im blasting "Fat Bottom Girls" as loud as humanely possible in attempts that old ladies doing water aerobics will take the hint and get the fuck out of the pool.
It's one of the many facets of my drunken alter egos. I'm like substance abuse batman.
The heart of my unhappiness in my job is that it's not a place where coworkers and I can draw dicks on everything to amuse each other
I may, or may not have licked his face in an Applebee's.
I'm drinking coffee out of a pasta sauce jar and eating fruit soaked in Smirnoff. I think I've hit rock bottom.
Remember last NYE when after the 9th shot of tequila you went on full crazy mode and made out with the 50 y/o doorkeeper? and he called you the next day?
You can't die you're my only democrat family member
Drunk you needs to learn how to call sober me, so sober me can talk your drunk vagina down.
he told me he liked me . I thought we were just fuck buddies . This ruins everything!
When we got into his bed, his damn parrot started making sex noises in the other room
just saw a girl run into an automatic sliding door, back up and try again
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