I just realized my life is a timeline of drunken injuries.
Only I can have a panic attack in the back seat of a cop car and have them move me to the front seat.
He sent me a picture of his ass and said the backdoor is open. Almost grabbed my keys and a condom before I saw it was a group text. Not nearly drunk enough for his desperation.
Noooo. We thought it would be funny for him to wake up buried in the sand. But we just remembered about the whole high tide thing and it's dark and it's pretty damn hard to find an unconscious head sticking out of the sand. Just help us out
Yeah we can't find him. He left a note saying he left and isn't that drunk with what appears to be an attempt at the quadratic formula for proof. He also wrote down his number and left his phone by the note
When he left he said something to the effect of "well now that I've been used..." I think he may be on to me.
In a min. With a stripper at the hospital. Business. Not pleasure.
I'm in a hotel full of Marines. I'm leaving here pregnant.
It's like salsa. But with balls in it. I like to call it balsa
I've been alternating between telling people I was mauled by a bear or hit by a car to explain the massive unexplainable bruise on my leg. Slightly more worried now that the car idea is believable.
I'm having a staring contest with a raccoon.
Where the hell are you
thank you for letting me use your house as a brothel.
He's a waiter, looks 15, and told me he loved me after only talking to me for 30 minutes. I told him I wanted a margarita. We got 3 free pitchers. I may have to make this our regular Wednesday night hangout.
he told me not to treat him like a child and then started peeing off the trampoline