let's makeout let's makeout let's make out let's make out
Im broke. I spend all my money on weed cigarettes alcohol and food. In that order. I cant even cut one of those because you know it'd be food. I already stopped getting my nails done just so i could support my bad habits.
I faked it too. I just spit on your bed.
Sober Sundays just aren't working out anymore.
His fucking was so lame I considered painting my nails during...
She's all pretty and bubbly and nice and I'm sitting here stoned looking like Lucifer.
Woke up in my underwear and Christmas sweater. Only. Eggnog has won the battle but not the war.
They can be so fun, drunk bruises are like clues to the treasure of what actually happened last night. "why do I have a bruise on my belly button? oh right. i was trying to turn my stomach off so I would stop throwing up."
Just explain how I got from the bar to a house I've never been in, waking up to a cop in uniform ripping a bong
for the record im never blowing a guy on the toilet again, that was sad and degrading
Don't tell him that you hope he dies in a boring missionary position with his wife. That doesn't go over well.
I don't even care that it's before church. I feel like God actually wants me to have this shower beer.
So why are your hands bright blue and have you seen my roommate.
Both questions will answer each other.
You said too many real things and now I need to crawl back inside my protective fort of sarcasm, being an asshole, and sass
No actually you're a pro. You puked on the cab ride, and managed to completely contain it in your purse. the cabbie was even impressed.
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