i found a twelve pack under my bed. and a six pack in my closet. I'm like a fucking alcoholic squirrel.
My life is a requiem composed in the key of fuck.
I wish I could sell my textbooks directly to my drug dealer and cut out the middle man
I woke up alone at my apt. On the floor with the door wide open, but still. Success.
By midnight I was dipping doritos in frosting...that's how my simmer break diet is going.
The guy you fucked with the lazy eye is here, im avoiding contact by texting you. But i just looked up and he recognizes me, theres no way he doesnt. I'd remember the girl who called me quasimodo all night too. Sober me feels so bad.
Just found a uh poem I wrote on ambien. It says to "cry your seamen filled tears" and "I hope you take a dagger to your vagina" and at the end it says "sincerely, God". What.the.fuck do they put in that pill?
Made a pan flute out of the varyingly empty beer bottles on the table. Played a glorious tune that paid tribute to the winds.
I really hope your new roommate never finds out we had a threesome with a bisexual British guy in his room the night before he moved in.
I vaguely remember taking a yard light, holding it up like the statue of liberty, and all of us at the party chanting the national anthem. What a glorious night
I totally gave him head in sync to Beastie Boy's Sabotage playing in the background.
Doing a small happy dance cause my cocaine successfully went through airport security
Everyone says she blew me in the bathroom, so I believe it, I just don't REMEMBER.
On a scale of one to Harambe, how attached were you to your goldfish?
I realized my soar muscles form the shape of me leaning over a toilet
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