3:40 am: you never wrote back on my facebook wall
you were calling yourself Ulickes S. Cunt.
it was 5AM and you were field goal kicking solo cups into the sink
"Party in the USA" was played at church youth group last night. It was like everything I enjoy hating was aligning against me.
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
I vaguely remember taking a shit behind the shed before I started puking over the fence. No more Xanax.
there's nothing like the elf drinking game to get me in the christmas spirit.
bad news.. campus security walked me home last night and when i tried to tell them where i lived they assured me they knew where our house was.
we were at work and Infront of the whole bar you yelled. "JAKE I WANNA GET FUCKED TONIGHT!" Us day drinking > everyone else
Now back to adults eating hotdogs.
If he cant deal with my insomnia and sex drive I really feel sorry for his child and ex fiance. Adulthood breakups are depressing.
either he just commented on my nose ring or he's offering me cocaine, I honestly can't tell
I never want to even look at fireball again because it reminds me of the night I died and then lived to tell the tale of how I died.
This is like a walk of shame down memory lane.
You shoulda seen me try and clean up custard from an eclair off the floor while trying to pretend to be sober for my mom. Fucking hilarious.
Randomize
