I'm twenty-five. I'm too old to be watching my friend throw up in Chipolte Parking lot.
I just spent the last hour reading customer reviews on amazon.com for the book "it hurts when I poop." Send help.
I'm so hungover, I actually considered rolling down the stairs to avoid walking.
regular news: took many shots of tequila.....bad news: woke up with a toothbrush and vagisil next to me.....good news: clean as a whistle
I told the bartender that he could give me back the tip I gave him if he outsmarted me in a battle of wits. He has yet to challenge me.
TAing a class of 300 froshies and being so hungover I forgot a bra is my way of making dreams come true.
Should I tell him the real reason I was in the hospital, or should I just keep him thinking the side effect he thought was in for was allergy related, not I just miscarried the child I didn't know we were having?
No, I did not fuck him for football tickets. I fucked him for tickets to the superbowl. I'm not that much of a slut.
I just remember being in the bathroom alone cussing out the bunny
I only know two things that kitchen floors are good for... sex and quesadillas that got dropped. You know, the five second rule
After I finished inserting the catheter he said he thought my name was familiar. Didn't have the nerve to tell him he was my fifth grade teacher.
He seems like a super lonely dude. I bet if I gave him a picture of my tits he wouldn't make me turn in this paper.
Last night I made the hotel shuttle driver take me to Walgreens for birth control, and Pringles.
They were both high priority
My throw up tasted like pumpkin, fall is right around the corner.
Tempted to tell the Titos promoters at this bar that they are doing the lords work.
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