dude, my face is all kinds of fucked up right now. and don't even start with i told you so...
i just used google streetview to figure out where i spent the night last night
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
I'm quitting my job and I'm just going to become a professional drunk girls mistake.
It doesn't matter if I tell the story beginning to end or end to beginning, the story still starts with a random girl blowing me in the bathroom.
You didn't know it was a gay bar until the 7th guy rejected you. You were crying because you thought it was just a bad night. No more for you.
You just kept walking around in a circle saying "well played 6th street well played" before falling over.
A girl just asked me if we had pregnancy tests and a coworker had to stop me from telling her I was a pregnancy test. THAT is why I don't drink at work.
id one day like to live in a world full of emotionless and wonderfully fullfilling sex...
I am honestly trying to remember his name. All I can remember is that he had a weird mole, a daughter and a lot of cocaine. Please stop letting me pick up at gay night.
Oh and apparently something happened that was related to "THIS IS SPARTA" but no one will tell me what I did.
So I'm going to blame my boobs hurting on that.
Jesus, I think this onesie was designed to keep me from masturbating.
but seriously, an anthropology paper shouldn't be hard if you're trashed, right?
i regret nothing
brb throwing up in the dishwasher
i regret everything
My first love was gay too, it's okay.
Randomize
