His text read: Sex? I replied: Not drunk enough. He bought 4 more rounds and tantalized me with the offer pizza later. This could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
We were drinking cognac with TAB. I felt like trailer park royalty.
He added me on Facebook. I'm pretty sure he got my name from the inside of the bra I had lost in the frat house.
I'm watching people hook up tonight who, when they wake up tomorrow, are going to wish they were blind.
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Its hard to hear the music in here over his nasal whistle. And his breath smells like old milk. I think I need more vodka, and he better be buying. You owe me.
I am too drunk to deal with your everything. Reread this everytime you feel the need to talk to me.
I ate the last cupcake. I'm sorry. It was in the refrigerator mocking me. So I ate it. And it was glorious. But I'm sorry.
I heard moaning and ass slapping and sponge bob.
Getting your clit pierced is not something you want to trust to a crazy girl with an ice cube, some vodka, and a sewing needle. Trust me. I learned that the hard way.
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I also told the pizza delivery guy that he smelled good. I must be ovulating.
The only reason I have clothes in my overnight bag is to cover up my sex toys.
My greatest accomplishment today was eating a box of Thai food the size of a toddler.
Out of ten? A seven. You pulled your shorts down to your ankles, jumped into the pool and announced you were a merman.
He shit with the door open. I think that means we are in a realtionship.
The guy in the room next to me just offered to hide the next dose of morphine he will get for his broken leg under his tongue and then swap it with me in exchange for a roll of the good toilet paper my parent brought for me last they visited. The psych ward is a lot more hardcore than I thought.
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