This is not a drunk text right now. This is an i want your dick text. There is a difference.
I just used celery as a chaser. That's the level of my refrigerator.
His idea of a compliment is: 'you're cuter than your friend. If you both wanted a 3way I'd do it,but I'd pay more attention to you.'
We left an ass print on the piano.
Also, at 1:30 I emailed myself saying, "are you there Margaret? It's me, god"
This has been the biggest binge-drinking season of the decade.
One step ahead. Always. Roses are red, violets are blue... I'm gonna fuck you with a rake.
I just sold my hat for three car bombs. I call that a win.
I'm taking ecstasy it's gonna be that kind of Vegas trip
I'm full of champagne and rage, of course I'm showing up at his house.
My goal for the weekend: procure a blowjob using only stern glances, hand gestures, and crudely-drawn stick figures.
He literally stole all the change that was on my floor and ran away while I was peeing. I have to rethink my standards.
I know I swore I wouldn't go home with him, but he whispered that he had taquitos and you know how much drunk me loves taquitos.
I woke up and he already had a joint rolled waiting next to the bed. Love.
We won like $80 last night at the casino, so if we get the Plan B we still have enough to get your basic bitch latte from Dunkin. Calm down.
Randomize
