There was a pool of blood on my desk and we still don't know who it belongs to. missed a good party, man.
I'm like 99% sure I made out with Kevin Spacey last night. Not good.
I'm also 95% sure I had a conversation with someone on how hard it would be to jerk off with out opposable thumbs
Dear sober self: your car keys are in the glove compartment, your car is outside the church. I hope you're reading this from your own bed instead of someone else's.
I love that my idea of a romantic gesture to you is to send you a picture of my vomit saying "wish you were here". You voluntarily dated me. For six years ish.
Drinking, I should not. Got here I don't know. Still drunk, I am. At courtneys.
Had to go see my sisters new baby this morn in the clothes I wore to the rave last night. Still drunk. Almost dropped it. I'll be a good aunt right?
After that song played in the club all he kept drunkenly saying was "Birdman goes brrrrrr"
But I REALLY want to hide my crazy for as long as possible with him so he'll date me.
The problem with having sex on the couch is that your blanket ends up in the laundry and you're left cold on the couch the next day.
I wrote "fuck you meg" on my toaster strudel with the icing. I call it "passive aggressive breakfast"
Can you send me a picture of your dog? I might need to borrow him so I can wear a speedo to a pool party on Friday
I will go to bed dreaming of sexy Olympians carting me on a throne to the beach where they feed me pizza and champaign and massage my head/wash it like the hair dresser does.
It's not "nice." It's the supermodel of dicks.
That's good. So do you know why there is a giant pile of old tires in the laundry room and kitchen?
Well we knew you needed some tires, found someone on the way home who was giving them away and took them all. Has to be 4 in there you can use.
Randomize
