Tell your sister I'm no fool. Or at least romanticize the notion of the fool.
Drinking wine. Reading twilight. On a Friday night. Biggest loser contest. First Place.
the realtor just asked me if i've ever made meth on this property.... i need to do something about my hair
Im on the side of I-10 covered in sweat, cookie dough, hollandaise sauce, onion gravy, and ground beef wondering how my life I ended up here
I love that your last three texts to me were "Drunk." "Getting laid." "In the hospital."
The money is just too good to quit doing it. I'm using the same justification strippers use.
Shit ive learned: when going out to a party, always wear a bathing suit underneath just in case theres a pool with a roof next to it
which guy lost his keys in my bed this weekend?
I was high last night eating a fudge bar and making eggs with toast and corned beef hash for a 2 am snack and my dad asked what I was and the only reply I could think of was "I'm an adult."
Literally the only clue I have to try and figure out my blackout adventures is a draft on twitter that just says "Mummies alive!"
We can't stop being roommates, you do such a good job of holding my hair back when I puke. I don't wanna buy hair elastics.
It's not even 8 pm, or Saint Patrick's Day, and Kevin is drunk on my roof humping the air
I need to learn how to not be a fucking liability
I've finally done it. I finally achieved my lifelong goal of becoming that awkward lesbian in high school who went on to have sex with more women than any of her male classmates.
i bet he makes cat noises to excite himself.
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