Check if I'm alive tomorrow. If not, tell my parents I died happy and that there's a gay cheerleader in the spare bedroom
Countdown til Saturday. I'd assume we're somewhere around 10,000 bottles of beer on the wall.
Sleepwalking naked until I was 12 made it so much easier to get away with drinking at moms now.
This whole bra on the outside of my shirt thing is so convenient. It turns my shirt into a pocket to eat Fritos out of. Mmm boobies
I just want to have sex and eat oreos. and then take body shots. like everyday.
As part of the off-hours team building exercises, I had my new coworkers figure out to push me back to the hotel from the nearby bars in a shopping cart every night for a week.
She was horrified when I asked if they had any strap on chin dildos, I was at a sex shop for gods sake must I be judged everywhere
Batchelotette party success. I woke up on the floor in nothing but a thong, a garter and a shirt that says Just Do Me.
Update - might be back in your neighbor's good graces. She liked the framed photo I gave her of me on the tractor with my business out.
Grandma's bordering on serious shit show territory at this point.
Where does drinking Flat, warm beer from two days ago rank of the No Fucks Given scale?
Fun fact: deep throating plus dehydration plus eating a lot of citrus = my throat is fucked. Metaphorically and physically.
If I ever say "I'm never drinking again" just hand me a bottle of jack. I'll snap out of it.
I flushed a potato down the toilet so now we have to live in a hotel.
You stocked up?
No actually didn’t get a chance. If you wouldn’t mind bringing me a brownie and a bottle of Jameson that’d be nice
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