I seriously can't date anymore I forgot how to hide my crazy
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I don't know how I'm boarding the plane tomorrow. I have my car registration.
Just because its your birthday does not mean u can play quarters by dropping quarters into cups to make me drink.
It looks like a tornado ripped through our living room and scattered clothes everywhere.
Count the bras. It was a category 3 whorenado ... I convinced the lesbians to come back to the apartment for a bottle of wine.
I love you. Happy valentines. Satin Patricks dayyyyyyyyyy. Alreadythrew up. Geeeeerait.
Purse pizza: the pizza you buy before the club, and you eat on the train home. I thought you knew me by now!
I just had to remind myself that I'm visible in real life. Sitting in the car in a parking lot, and almost took my shirt off because the tag is itchy and I wanted it off... and you know I don't wear bras...
I am taking a candle lit bath, blasting some tupac and smoking a fat bowl. This is how every night should end. Did you go take a piss in his car yet?
It was like we had a conversation with our eyes.
Was it a good conversation?
It was an awkward, sexual conversation.
I have a tattoo that says Yolo. You should not have been asking my advice in the first place
THERE IS A VERY SMALL CHILD YELLING OUTSIDE OF MY DOOR. THE NEXT TIME YOU TELL ME YOUR TOO BIG FOR A CONDOM I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE DICK.
I'm drinking vodka out of a water bottle at work. Am I really the best person to come to for life advice?
I am the most hated person in hoboken. Ive been doing drunken cake boss impressions down the street for the past 20 mins.
I am drunkenly riding a razor scooter up and down the hills of Cincinnati
What in the fuck are you doing with your life
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