the smoke from my cigarette strangely resembles what patrick swayzes ghost will look like.
If my vagina had boots, it would be shaking in them.
we did it on the carpet and she just yells out "OH. MY PSORIASIS".
You got so drunk you kept singing the Sailor Moon theme song and kept making everyone call you Sailor Venus.
he told us the story of how he fought ketchup, mustard, and thomas the train engine all in one night. if that doesn't sound like an acid trip i dont know what does.
sober me hid the cigs from drunk me. sober me is a tricky bitch.
Things I love twice as much when drunk: Taco Bell. Office chairs that roll. Classes.
Update: we are pushing the start of day drinking back from 9 am to 10 am. Minor delay.
no one was sober enough to set up jenga so we just threw the pieces at the last person to drink
I hope they realize that to me "collecting their mail" is synonymous with "fucking in every room in their house, and twice in the party shower."
i should probably stop thinking with my vagina, and start using that $70, 000 education i can't afford. what the fuck.
I have dibs on his crisis of faith.
To sum up. The glass blower from the ren faire ate me out last night. Best ever. Go find yourself an artisan.
Hmm should I take my nipple rings out before my sisters wedding/family vacation in Puerto Rico where I will be with my mother 24hrs a day for four days wearing a bathing suit seemingly the entire time? Or should I just risk it and not hug anyone.
Risk it. Keep the titties tough.
God yes pancakes and booze sounds like the best night ever.
Randomize
