It's 8:30am and I'm drinking.... this is a new low
Michael Bay diarrhea
Her tattoo has the intellectual profundity of snakes on a plane except you can't laugh.
i need a wealthy benefactor or a cocktail job. or to start stripping. or kill myself. whatever.
I walked in and she was doing shots, betting the managers if any of the customers would notice, and screaming that nothing would ruin her Saturday night. Say what you want, I like working with my sister.
He talks to me in this sweet I know you might be pregnant voice.
I think it was you who decided that coming home at 3AM and cooking eggs topless was the best way to end our night. Eating the scrambled eggs off each other's boobs, that was ellie's idea
What do I wear to meet his family/put his dog to sleep? Is there even an appropriate outfit for this occasion?
She's like an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, tossed in miller light, inside a question. Nobody can explain a Heather.
I wish drunk me wasn't so into manscaping. Or at least good at it. Either or really
he apologises profusely for spelling mistakes in his texts but doesn't care about cheating on me. priorities
Just so you know in the morning, yes you did send your bartender a snap of your boobs. No I didn't try to stop you because you used sound logic for doing so.
How do I explain to work that I woke up in my underwear on a trampoline and that I'm not coming in?
you made it your goal to puke in every planter around the union. you got most of them. im proud of you
You're even getting laid in my dreams, god I'm a good wingman
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