so I'm never txting u again after today...
y?
cuz i don't wanna see it on blogspot :)
ha...too late
Check if I'm alive tomorrow. If not, tell my parents I died happy and that there's a gay cheerleader in the spare bedroom
giving yourself 2 days to recover i see
I'll need it. Largely because i'm going to be stumbling through fancy restaurants with a bottle of whiskey insulting couples all night.
She was singing my heart will go on into her barf bag. celine aint got shit on her.
if you hear someone banging on your door early in the morning, it's me with some breakfast burritos, so don't be alarmed
well, duh, but it's like you don't even want to see me masturbate with a wine bottle.
Got my bloodwork back and my liver is in tip top shape. Apparently blacking out 5 nights a week isn't cutting it, so we've got to step it up until I see that all of my hard work is actually paying off and doing some damage.
We will. we just need a little inspiration.... in smoke form.
and then we all passionately sang "what if god was one of us" until everyone passed out in the grass
We need to go back to the barter system so I can sell my body and just be done with it.
im not trying to sound dramatic, but im covered in microwavable lasagna
Well, after emptying the contents of my stomach into a fucking rose bush, the only things moving through my digestive system are pills, coffee, and my own lip gloss. If that gives you any idea what kind of a day I'm having.
I imagine it like the scene in Sorceror's Stone, but instead of flying keys, it's flying dicks.
That is a dream.
Update: they told me I was twerking to twenty one pilots
hold on i need to sex proof my eyelashes. thank godd for waterproof mascara
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