PS- did you die? If you did just text "dead" to me, so that I know.
she just built a cabin out of hotdogs and cooked it in the microwave.
now she is shaking the plate and mumbling "this is what california must feel like"
I think im gonna have to stop sexting on the metra. The middle aged businessman behind me just leaned over and whispered 'dirty girl' and highfived his seatmate.
update. expensive tequila only makes the mistakes more expensive.
i'm not the one sitting naked in my room playing with my boobs and a cat.
he laminated a picture of his dick.
He said I showed up in just my underwear and a bunch of towels I stole from the party I was at.
There's some band that practices next door to my apartment. I'm thinking we may need to check that out. I could be like, "Hey boys, thought you might like some lemonade and vagina."
Dave called me blind fucking drunk thinking he was going to die from drinking with drake bell(wtf?) saying "it's all that drake motherfucker's fault" and later proceeded to tell me "you are my twitter"
The only flat surface we had was a cheez it box so we snorted the blow off of that. Rock bottom really isn't that bad.
Btw I'm already known as the drunk roommate. Don't know if that's a success or a failure seeing as it hasn't even been a week since I've been here
three of my fingers are bleeding and the only thing on my phone rn is a google search of 'Allison Janney'
I'm just waking up. I awoke in a towel (I must have showered at some point),i also found a half eaten McChicken in my bed and vomit in the toilet. Seems like I'm winning at life
I came home and my mom goes "why are you barefoot and where the hell are your shoes?" and I replied "I have French fries"
I refuse to take any type of advice let alone love advice from a motherfucker who is missing 3 fingers from a Fucked up masturbating accident.
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