we're blogging at a bar
C thinks vomiting on the batroom floor = reaon not to party. Lies. Party continues.
This cookie i'm eating tastes like pizza. It was so worth contacting my sister for pot.
Dancing like a fucking crazy person to jai ho with a snow ball in her hand. Snow days make her go nuts.
Standards? I'm sitting on his couch eating microwaved ramen wearing his wife's t-shirt. I don't remember what having standards even feels like.
P.S. I just watched The Muppets. I feel like I just got a sadness enema.
I let him do a line off my nipple in exchange for his prescription pain pills. I feel like 3/4 Vegas stripper, 1/4 underbelly of society.
You know he really cares when he gives you one of those on-the-go toothbrushes for your walk of shame before running to work
Wearing scrubs to buy plan b so I look like I have my life together.
This is the Santa Claus of hangovers. It just keeps giving.
It was all fun and games until he noticed the hickey that he hadn't given me...
World Cup Drinking Game: Take a shot every time they call a foul for something we don't understand. Gotta risk it to get the biscuit.
i just wanna know who wrote "dibbz" on my ass?
I'M NOT EVEN STOPPING FOR WINE SO I CAN GET TO THAT DICK QUICKER.
I've finally become one of those chicks with a taco in her purse.
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