Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
He threw up over the balcony and blamed it on an invisible garden gnome.
I'd like to come home and be able to sleep in a bed that's not filled with crumbs from you getting too high and passing out while eating. This is seriously getting ridiculous.
The door to door salesmen do not expect you to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon
I have to take his virginity. It's what God put me on earth for. It's my life mission.
I'll always be here to give you immoral support.
My bathroom smells like artichokes and absinthe. I am naming a perfume after you and using the money to buy new towels.
so i EARNED it!?! i EARNED dying alone with cats!!?
I spilled wine on my pillowcase and I figure it's basically my lifeblood so I'm just leaving it
EW FUCK GROSS GODDAMMIT I WENT DOWNSTAIRS AND MY GODDAMN BROTHER WAS FINGERING SOME GIRL ON THE FLOOR DOESN'T HE KNOW HE FUCKING LIVES WITH PEOPLE
I got a hand job after work. Remember those? From the 90s...
He stole my heart. I stole his identity.
Once someone takes a shit in your toilet they are no longer a guest.
Awesome. I did a rain go away dance. And it went away. Nbd just cotrollin the weather with my mind and sweet dance moves
The text I got from my boyfriend this morning: "babe, I'm not mad because I know you were drunk, but you kissed 3 guys last night and I wasn't one of them".
Randomize
