She posts like 3 statuses a day pleading for pity. Responding positively would be like giving a dog a treat for shitting on the floor.
When we started taking double shots of vodka and chasing it with a lick of fruit roll-ups, I knew there'd be hell to pay in the morning.
No I'm not coming over. That Bob Ross drinking game is too intense.
I am getting drunk. And i'm going to paint my face and slide down the stairs like Pochahontas. Goodbye
You can't break up with me and ask me for a handjob on the same day. At least not in that order.
2 more and I will have fucked 75 percent of my acting class. best. elective. ever.
Well, remember that night we took shrooms at graces an had to leave immediately to go home and hold each other on the futon and sob for four hours? That bad...
preface to our conversation: my vagina hurts.
When I wake up, please remind me why my shoe is in the toilet, my shower is filled with jello, and there is a naked girl sleeping on my coffee table holding a bag of Cheetos. that is all.
so you ordered business cards online last night with a picture of your dick on them. you need to hide that new credit card when you drink
I like how she'll post a picture on Instagram with her boyfriend and 2 hours later you'll send me a snap of her panties on your rear view mirror
I blacked out. Broke into their house. Took a shit, and left. This is why you can't leave me unattended.
I always knew I would be boring and die in an Uber.
Bring shot glasses to the final. Don't ask questions.
I'll text you tomorrow when I'm not in someone's torture cave if I don't by noon call for help.
Randomize
