I just googled maps his house, and took the virtual tour back to my apartment, just so I could visualize the walk of shame in the morning
There are thorn wounds on my balls, don't ever question my dedication to party again
I can't tell whether I'm throwing up blood or licorice.
they started a semi-successful rumor that toby keith died. who says fraternities don't have goals
Beer Popsicles are better in theory
I cried singing "call me maybe" on the way home from the bar. What the fuck
Vodka drinking games. Where you wake up next to a douche lord and see your thong in the blinds.
He's living a porn movie. He's slept with a waitress at her work for lunch, a bar tender at the bar that night, and the cleaning lady the next morning.
I reek of latex and grilled onions.
Mission accomplished.
There is blood on my sheets, we apparently used 8 towels, everything in my shower is knocked down. Wut?
Just fat and dog and sweat all over the bed. All night long.
I have accepted that I am a sexual predator. What I can't accept is the lack of sexual men for me to seduce in this town.
I'm scared to touch anything in this apartment. Even the ceiling.
It's barely past noon, how am I already talking about double penetration
I am getting off work an hour early just to watch you drink. Never let it be said that I don't love you.
Randomize
