I found the seven page love letter I had written you. I'm sorry i was so obsessed.
i asked a few people if they wanted to make pancakes with me but no one would. thats why i'm drunk by myself right now
I know we didn't hook up because i was still wearing my fanny pack in the morning
my bedside table was not meant to hold this many beer bottles.
Apparently the last thing they remember of me was me stumbing into a bathroom, then falling out 5 minutes later clutching a butter knife repeating "ketamine goes in my face hole"
I'm sorry for peeing on your door. But it was your decision to open it.
For the first time in my life, I paid for my own alcoholic beverage last night. Am I getting ugly?
To be honest, kinda.
Typical Sunday afternoon purchase of condoms and a helium tank.
So the old dude that tried to fight me is definitely Katie's dad. And the pot cookie's kicking in. Shit is getting weird.
I want someone to sweep me off my feet and you want someone to fuck you on the kitchen table. They're both perfectly logical needs.
He sent me a pic stitch collage of all the tit pics I had sexted him this month. It was so sweet!
I just saw a guy in a hazmat suit riding a tractor.
You tried to order fondue take-out.
From Taco Bell.
Would you paint my ceiling for oral sex?
I’m sorry I got high and yelled about the patriarchy.
Randomize
