the reason why you were crawling on your hands and knees from room to room last night was because you thought the ceiling fans were chasing you...
that makes sense.
Things found in my vomit last night: cell phone, Von Hayes rookie card, a boot, my dignity
She took a break from repeating "my face is still buzzing!" to say that the phantom of the opera could be here
im just going to wait until i dont feel like the grim reaper is having sex with me
Speaking is such a hard concept right now
weekly advice from mom, "Drink vodka, it las hess calories"
This reminds me of the time I was given a lap dance by a David Bowie drag king...
The fun I thought I would be having now when I was six is vastly different from what I am currently doing. Hurraaay sex and vicodin.
He's thawing a cheesecake on his stomach. We're that high.
It's like everything I need in life within a five block radius: booze, toilets, dogs, dicks.
I just want to slap everyone in the face that's happy being sober. Loser.
I wanna die. I can't recall the last time I was happy that doesn't involve your hand touching my butt.
All I wanted was to die alone with my dogs....how did I end up here
I don't know if I should laugh or punch you
Stop talking and go back to bed. You're in the kitchen in your underwear and slept in your car.
You weren't singing into a microphone in front of an audience. You were screaming into your fist in the check-out aisle in Walmart.
Randomize
