i friday night watching house. god, i need a life, friends, and a legitimate fake id.
this is the fifth day in a row i've woken up after 3 pm, hungover. I might die when snowmageddon is finally over and we have to go back to class. my liver wont know how to take it.
My choices this week make me realize that I need to copyright the term "cock buffet"
at one point last night, you were literally auctioning me off. "reeeally drunk hot girl ! we'll start the bidding at an ice cold corona. oh, we have a bidder! do i hear a shot of whiskey? going once, going twice.."
youre welcome
I wasnt that drunk. Throwing the table off the third story was totally logical.
I'm eating my emotions. I am no longer interested in anybody other than my own hand and vagina.
Oh hey. I left my beer there. Beer is more important than my pride. I want to pick that up.
I'm treating this like a real date. My boobs aren't even out.
I'm so proud, I have tears
I actually had to tell him that sex doesn't replace my Tupperware. Our relationship has reached a weird level.
They are doing the auction. One of the items in the auction is a grenade launcher.
I would have publicly shamed him but I'm pretty sure his tramp stamp did that on its own...
I've got to stop fucking tourists. If Chicagos piazza is anything like their dicks. I'm moving.
Apparently I’m a terrible influence when alcohol is involved
Plan before tomorrows interview: wash off green glitter from EVERYWHERE!!!
My sister gave me satin sheets. We can fuck on satin sheets.
Randomize
