Breakfast of vicodin and eggs out of a solo cup at about three in the afternoon on a wednesday...I have my life together
thank you for tagging me in all my pictures as "skank" and yourself as "made by the hands of God"
your friend did not want a bj. we need to leave. this is very awkward.
well.. I tried flushing my sandals down the toilet
Are you alive?
I googled "I don't want to vomit anymore," and "how to rip out your uvula," at 9 am this morning, but I'm still here. Uvula and all.
Whiskey and I have a long and stories tradition of excellence
I was going to ask the people in the kitchen to keep the volume down, but they're cooking pasta at 3 AM and one complimented me on my polka-dot nightgown. They're high. No volume control.
I will have you again some day my love. And our divorce will be magnificent
Also cheers for the reminder to check last night's texts. It's been a magical adventure through drunk me's thought process.
Every little girl dreams of the day when she picks up her fuck buddy because he's drunk at the gay bar again.
I think John will remember that birthday for a while. I'm still dying at the fact a stripper was hunting me down.
I'm bringing my passport in case we get drunk and wind up in Mexico
conclusion: canadians have really freaky sex
Change the sheets & put your dick in the dishwasher. I'll see you in an hour.
He said they were his favorite shoes.. So I threw one down the sewer. Now he'll keep searching the house for the other one. Sweet silent revenge.
Randomize
