BEES IN MY FUCKING PANTS. HELP.
You don't understand, alcohol has become a thing of survival for me and without it I can't function as a normal human being
I have no idea. There are 6 asians singing hey soul sister to me right now.
i woke up in just my socks. my clothes were outside, he had rugburn on his elbows, and a window was broken.
She's started this new thing where whenever she drives by random couples talking alone outside she yells "break up! this is your sign!"
It wasn't your birthday, you weren't supposed to be the drunk one
When people keep buying you drinks at the bar because they like you, you can't say no to them
I can tell right now that knowing you will either be really fun or ruin my life
I don't like pregnant me. I eat very large burritos, I don't like having sex and I can't even finish a Blue Moon.
I just wish the first erections of my life didn't take place at a dentists office but hey whatever I turned out alright
I mean, I already saw his dick in person and wasn't impressed so why is he sending me a picture of it, anyway? I hate re-runs!
If you can't trust the person at the taco cabana drive thru, who can you trust?!
My history professo slid into my DMs. Granted I did give him “fuck me” eyes during a lecture a few times.
I'm still trying to figure out who shit on the coffee table. I have confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt that it wasn't me.
I’m really regretting these suede pants.
After this weekend, all I can think about is bald eagles flying in front of fireworks and giving birth to fucking uncle sam. Also, beer.
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