margs and chips and queso make the world go round
well and inertia
I like complaining with weaving words and complex sentences. It makes me seem more sophisticated and less bitchy.
Our hot neighbor just came over and asked for a toilet plunger...not so hot anymore
the bar tender told me i could keep an air matress in the backroom.
And you kept repeating "I didn't know know that this was a no blow job zone."
we found his I.D. in the upstairs bathroom...under a towel in a hidden pile of snacks from her kitchen
You need to let him know my only agenda is coke and sadness.
Idk. The last coherent text said something about $25 & dimes. And then...it's just letters...
I'm sitting on our balcony drunk. And in my underwear. Our relationship with our neighbors may improve.
I'm running on two hours of sleep, a shot of vodka, and half of a granola bar. I can't be held responsible for what I do.
I'm like going proud parent over you doing drugs, this is so wrong.
You know it was a weird night when you find curly fries in your purse the next morning...
Hey do you remember me?
You were the giant banana I had sex with... how could i forget?
I share a birthday weekend with Easter this year, so that fucking sucks. I hate sharing...and I have to share with fucking Jesus this year.\n
All I know is I woke up with my apartment door wide open, naked, and I poured an entire bottle of Advil on my bed to sleep in.
Randomize
