70 feet underwater and I sharted my wetsuit, Tide pen won't clean this up.
Silently passing ghastly beer farts as I move around the bridal department at Tiffany's. Call it my contribution to the holiday spirit.
There's something really special about 3:00 in the afternoon drunk that just can't be duplicated at any other time of day.
This is going to be BYOBM Vegas trip: Bring Your Own Bail Money.
the whole story woulnd't be so depressing if i had made out with ANYONE but the piano player.
He tricked me into going on a double date with him, I don't like that he's not using me for just sex anymore
you walked in on him eating me out and screamed SHE'LL BREAK YOUR HEART BRO before body slamming on the ground and passing out on the floor
You can't text people with drinkers' regret at 8 in the morning. It's just bad form.
I'm super stoned watching the vatican smoke cam. Come over.
I really dont wanna go to a traffic light party. I have nothing red to pretend I'm taken with. Without something red my "my girlfriend is away in the mines" story wont work.
So I guess I bought a cat last night. Fuuuccckkk.
Also my face is like def lowkey made of silly putty
Hey also tomorrow casually bring up wearing crocs to your sister's wedding
if i hadn't ended our catfight by hugging you one of us might be dead right now
I did not marry a roomba.
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