I'm dying. Please wear something slutty to my funeral.
i wonder if i could find a boyfriend who would call me big papa
sure if you go to prison
Okay so if I'm going to keep referring to my hangover in the third person it needs a name.
i think i should save myself the $200 for a prom dress. i mean why bother. its just going to be covered in vodka/jizz/and puke by the end of the night.
So... i mean if they do have cameras in his apartment buildings pool room atleast we gave them a little show.
oh but the power of the cock will take you to places you never been..i flew to hawaii once to sleep witha chick
That is correct. I did in fact somehow pass out in the tanning booth for over an hour. And yes the attendant did have to open it up and shake me awake.
You poured your drink on yourself and then said "it's not a party until I'm wet"
you invented a new sport called "bacon pulling" and you cried everytime a piece broke
Please rescue me. but take your time, im getting pizza
Netflix keeps asking me if I'm still watching just because I've been sitting here all afternoon...why do I feel like my tv is judging my life choices?
Something tells me your "Titties for Tracy Morgan" fundraiser won't pan out.
I'm surronded by jorts. You're probably too drunk to care. I'm gonna cry now. Love you.
last night is slowly putting itself back together. Its one giant slutty puzzle, all the pieces are covered in tequila and shame.
Gave a guy a blowjob in a convent. Place in hell is now secured...
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