At Bonnaroo. Just saw a couple emerge from a port-a-potty. Romantic?
Decided to write a book called "girls don't poop and other myths I wish I still believed in"
Im rethinking drunk tuesdays. Also rethinking ovaries.
I'm done. I'm tired and there's a topless pic of me floating around the nation's largest 3G network.
So apparently after he gets hammered, falls down a set of stairs and gets a concussion, he can still come home and find a way to play his guitar solo bullshit as loud as possible while i seduce my date...
I feel like tequila heightens the sense of my nipples.
My boobs grew. They knew we were going to vegas.
Change of plans. Theres a bouncy castle setup in my apartment complex.
It'll be a Christmas-Fucking-Miracle if we get through the ceremony without a groomsman vomming
Just walk straight and zig zag through cars tell you get to the road. That's where I am. Perpendicular to the doors do not make any turns
You were throwing up and said, "Whipe my face, I must look presentable at all times."
I don't think you understand...I'm really good at getting drunk
First Peyton Manning retires, and now the most interesting man in the world is retiring for Dos Equis. This is the worst week of my fucking life.
I'm telling you, this vagina is really making the rounds lately...
I woke up in his closet, with my shirt inside out and backwards, Rolos in my hand, a tortilla with a face carved into it stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a homemade bong next to the bed, and the door off the hinges... I need a chaperone.
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