my room smells like sperm. sweet.
i'm dressed up like the coppertone baby and being hit on a guy in a monk costume. the irony is not lost on me.
You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.
K. On the way. I need a drink.
Like a drink drink or like water?
Have we met?
We really need to stop competing to see who can get more drunk, and I REALLY need to stop winning.
I wish we could tell the moving van to wait at the strip club for a while.
Like I had to call my dad because I couldn't manage to unlock the door. And when he got there to open it I was climbing the gate to get in.
Do you ever wonder what the men who we shamelessly objectify would think if they saw our texts in regard to them?
I slept with someone only because he got my Simon Birch impression. It was a new low.
I woke up to see that I had ripped my boxers into a loin cloth because we were watching last of the mohicans
just found out that she named her cat after me.
How long have I been using my debit card as a coaster?
All I could think about was how many vaginas had been on the toliet that I was pukin in
i want to say his dick was in it but not his heart
I'm too hungover to Google him and try to save face.
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