You bet me 100 dollars that the Raiders would win the super bowl this year. I have it on tape.
Close your eyes and stop texting and think about puppies. You'll be fine.
I'm in a pile of cheezits at an unfamiliar location watching dateline on tlc. Stage an intervention.
Nope. Daytime is texting time. Night time is you send me naked pictures time.
There's puke on my pillow. I'm still wearing my wedges. And I have a cab drivers number clutched in my fist.
I flashed a party boat full of Asians yesterday, didn't I?
Seriously. My vagina. Can we talk about it? It's gonna jump off this treadmill and devour my trainer.
The window painters skipped us. They didn't know what to do with the giant SMOKE WEED in the window. So they just skipped it.
I can get there in 20, one question, Drress Code? Stripper Lite (make up may require an additional 5-10 minutes), Suggestive Professor (professor Kamil's cleavage ain't got nothing on me), Daywear, Dyke (and trust me you ain't seen dyke), or Exactly What I'm Wearing Right Now. (all of the above may arrive under a coat and are subject to my level of sobriety. Which is currently like nonexistent).--xoxo you know you love me, Gossip Girl.
I know how vodka works Grace. I'm drunk, not stupid.
Her car is covered in frozen vomit, and she lost her iPhone. I'm also pretty sure I smoked crack last night. Rest in peace 2014.
The only times we have to apologize in this friendship is when you intentionally punch me and that's only happened once so it's okay
Had to lock my cat in the bathroom so I could masturbate in peace.
All the doctor said was why
Dick is the cure to depression. I'm almost positive. And cough syrup.
Randomize
