i think 'regret' was last night's theme. i could taste it in my mouth and woke up next to it.
You asked him to stand still, you put your leg on his shoulder, started dry humping the air
The door to door salesmen do not expect you to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon
I would do laundry with you but I vaguely remember swallowing all my quarters last night as some kind of trick.
When the officer tried to stop you, you just shouted your name in his face. repeatedly.
Pretty sure God shed a tear when I put 15 singles in the collection plate.
bark. im thoroughly looking forward to kegs and eggs. next weekend should be pancakes and pinnical, then cereal and seagrams and then whiskey and waffles.
i look like a southern belle. however, i am around a million kegs. so i will be a southern shitshow.
Last night: Repeatedly yelled about how the fishbowl tasted like blue, stole a stranger's hat, hugged the DJ for playing my request, made out with my roommate, and abandoned the guy I dragged to the club in the first place
This morning: Hat doesn't fit, hangover headache is blue, and I can't move without getting lightheaded
Listen when they tell you not to drink after giving blood
Kid sitting next to me smells like he slept in a dutch oven full of farts. Going to die.
New rule: gentleman callers are required to bring me gifts of beer when coming over to court you. Tell the monster jam dudes so they know.
I lull them into a false sense of security with my gayness. Then when they're vulnerable, I strike, like a snake. A big non-gay snake, with huge balls.
Maybe you can hide out somewhere she would never go. Like a counseling center or AA
struggle bus is officially taking me on a road trip to hell. If this is just the first destination, I'll jump out the fucking window.
Stripping out of my teacher clothes to Talk Dirty to Me. Who let me become a teacher?
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