Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning when I'm not in bed with an excruciating hangover.
All I remember is that the bartender wouldn't give me scissors cuz I was too drunk
Europe's "the final countdown" was playing. It was pretty much amnesty for anything that might happen the rest of the night. It's a rule.
You kno how some people just need a "everything will be alright" pat on the back? I need an "everything will be alright" blowjob right now. Come over
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there's no way I could forget finding someone else's hand in my pants
I have vodka soaked strawberries. My latest tarot card reading hinted at a lesbian/bisexual coming out. I doubt I survive the night.
The things happening in my intestines right now should only ever happen at truck stops and frat houses.
Yes. Amanda is the only option and I want cake so I can sacrifice my vagina.
No shame December is a go.
Nothing with ever convince me that she wasnt purposely left behind by our mother to ruin my life and fuck our family
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I just singed the hair in my nose trying to re-light a joint. now all i can smell is burnt hair. day ruiner
So anyway, I'm just floating along life with my vibrator and low expectations.
Well we can add this to the list of 'where the hell did that bruise come from?'
Tripping over coffee tables hurts shins but face is okay bc I landed on a sofa.
Was I just dreaming, or was there a corpse at work last night?
She was just sleeping.
Is it bad that I'm kind of disappointed by that?
I'm sorry i showed you my boobs.. I probably shouldn't have done that.
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