Apparently I called 911 everytime Sean Kingston told me to
This is getting serious. I keep forgetting what's in my vagina.
Woke up on the floor with my glow stick in one hand & dollar bills in the other. Good. Morning.
Everytime I sleep with him he gives me another hint to what his tattoo means. I'm like a slutty Nancy Drew.
I don't really know I'm just giving her a key to get back in and the "don't get pregnant speech" and leaving it at that.
In order of importance: Where am I? Where's my car? Where are my clothes? Who is this chick in the room?
Anne's couch, the bar, your car, Anne.
I may or may not have shit out a layer of my liver after that weekend.
Seriously! We need to take her a thank you note or something. She puts up with the drugs and the extremely loud sex. She deserves a thank you card.
Remind me not to get naked underneath a tree I'm allergic to again.
It's not really the holidays until I raid the medicine cabinet. Happy hydrocodone to me
And a merry methadone to all
I almost had to fight a bird, and you know how scared I am of birds. It found that Percocet that I lost in the grass last week, I threw out my back when I launched myself at that little fucker.
Is it bad that I have more guilt over drunk eating Doritos than hooking up with my ex's best friend last night?
I'm extremely upset that I wasted my "having sex with a guy at work" card on him
I legitimately just had to leave work because I am too hungover. The front office ladies keep making fun of me.
A fire alarm is going off in some building, people are running around naked and people are passed out in the MIDDLE of the sidewalk. If they ban parties again, I'm going to be pissed.
Randomize
