I can hear the grilled cheese talking to me. "Let me in there!" they wanna get inside me
He never called back after I emailed him my booty call contract.
all i remember thinking as i was puking my intestines out is : wow.. this toilet does look like it's from the future.
ugh i can't even wear this perfume anymore. it just brings back blurry memories of blowjobs and regret.
I don't think I have but I might've died. If I have then come get me, I'm in the flower bed. And still game.
I'm pretty sure I had my drunk fortune told by a gay Miss Cleo last night. At least it's advice sober me can agree with.
Only I could host a baby shower where the cops get called.
Paige is home safe.
Actually, she's here now, punching me in the face. You should've kept her keys.
I feel like we have a good system here turning our sketchy decisions into great stories.
I kept on yelling at him to get his shit together as he was puking
For future reference, don't put tape on your nipples. Ouch.
Does she know she is talking to people who slam shots of fireball and chase it with vodka?
I woke up this morning to my panties draped around the neck of an empty bottle of bulleit. That is the perfect visual metaphor for my life at this juncture.
I mean, I already hooked up with her boyfriend. The least I can do is accept her facebook friend request.
We have massive handle of kettle and a rack of hi life
That's the happiest ive ever been at 7:48 am....
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