Tonight must have been good, I have already had two cups of coffee but still couldn't figure out how to operate a door.
I'm like connect-the-dots of drunk. Whiskey, bourbon, vodka, rum, gin. The hidden picture is me faceplanting.
I listened to the last 10 minutes of that 20 minute voicemail, it's solid gold. At one point he literally suggests we buy tasers and go around shooting people.
He was making tequila spiked Arnold Palmers and murmuring things in Spanish.
I love foreign exchange students.
I'll just tell her I'm here with you picking out a buttplug for her to say "I'm sorry".
I have learned that if you don't want to hook up with the guy who walked you home, food is great compensation.
He's an acquired taste, like S&M or those crunchy things they put in salads
Croutons?
Is this the point in which we come to terms with our lesbianism or is that after you send me more ass pics...
If he can't cook well I'm just gonna buy a RealDoll and twenty cats and live my own fucking life
You are cordially invited to an I'm not pregnant laser tag celebration tomorrow. booze is optional.
Blacked-in to me, shirtless, giving myself finger guns in the mirror and rapping "stacks in the club stacks stacks in the club."
I'm just going to take the mature adult root and ignore him for a bit, and then pretend like I didn't see him jerking off.
im buying my prof a giftcard to the state store bc he talked ab crying into a glass of tequila so he deserves it
I wanna get a tattoo next to my tattoo that says, my ex did this so don't fucking ask
Lady at the airport across from me just pulled a cat out of her bag. can't deal with this right now..
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