I wanna go to beed woth a nboy
I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
I wouldn't necessarily call it an addiction, more of a passion. I'm habitually passionate.
you tried to do a keg stand and ended up flipping over it and onto the table
it went kinda like vodka, childhood memories, screaming/cursing, fist fight, tears, broken shit, passing out. in that order. tis the season.
You kept tellin the cashier that this order was "To Go" over and over...even tho we were in the drive-thru
I can't. I can't get out. He cooked me food. And made me jager bombs. And painted a glow in the dark smilie face on my boobs
I feel like I have African malaria. I just remembered singing Teenage Dream in full to that biker couple at the bar.
Weekday college schedule so far: get high as tits. Watch Family Guy marathons. Repeat.
No he exists. Who else tells me no matter how drunk I am to pull out. He's watching over me so my bastard doesn't get created.
I tried to order champagne at IHOP last night
We were making out and truffle butter was playing in the background. I stopped mid make out session and said, "I'm really sorry but I have to rap Nicki's part."
He told me he was my brother roommate in college after we fucked, but already knew that so I had pretend I didn't know that.. like how I pretended I finished. 2/10
Leaving the puke on the ceiling as a reminder.
IM FILLED WITH SANDWICHES AND SELF LOATHING
Randomize
