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Life isn't about who you kiss, drunk, at midnight. It's who you text nonsense to, sober, from the toilet.
Sorry I invoked the "everyones getting smacked including myself policy last night"
I love our relationship. We just get drunk, show each other our tits, demonstrate sexual positions and make pasta. Then you go to bed and I sit around with your mom and cry about how proud of you we are.
We had a pillow fight. It looks like an angel exploded here. A DRUNK ALCOHOLIC ANGEL
today i was walking through gramercy with a dress bag from David's Bridal and a bag of McDonald's. No guy would make eye contact with me as I scarfed down my fries. I think I was mankind's walking night terror.
Maybe you can hide out somewhere she would never go. Like a counseling center or AA
I am pretty damn sure that neither my body or his body is ready for how drunk I am getting tonight
We poured some Korbel out for our homie Dick Clark.
Hiding the dark circles under my eyes this morning was like trying to hide a Beached Whale on the Couch eating Pita chips.
YET AGAIN, my financial planning for 2013 consists MOSTLY of eating chipotle as "brain food" and drinking Heavily before the Jeopardy contestant test.
No he's great. He's trying to do "sexy stuff" for me now, which is pretty hilarious. He stirred my daiquiri with his penis last night. He also tied a bouquet of flowers around it.
Every single person in NY is either baking, drinking, or photographing their cat. Reporting live from Instagram.
On the way out the door to work grabbed the wine glass on the floor left for the ghost of Elijah and chugged it. PASSOVER.
Not my type. One of those types that loves that they're educated, could drink their red wine and have an intellectual conversation and have a wonderful time
An adult?
Can I borrow you for, like, thirty minutes so you can lay on one boob and rub the other until I fall asleep?
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