I'm going to have to call in sick tomorrow. After this weekend, there's no way I can handle hearing the accountants talk about double entry without puking.
I'm in my winter jacket and nothing else. very drunk. bring bitches.
I come up with the best drinking games while babysitting
so i don't know how many beers it takes to make a recliner look like a toilet, but that's how many i had.
Sad news: I might have to institute a "once-per-day" policy on getting trashed downtown. Sorry, reputation.
Also, we should really buy some bandaids. Right now I'm using toilet paper and scotch tape, but I don't really think that's sanitary.
I cant prove it..but im almost positive that you were just outside my window watching me while eating out of a bag of Cheetos...
But it's not about our feelings, it's about making the men we sleep with feel awful about their lives
My signature move is making guys wonder why they bothered in the first place
I'm in the kitchen making quiche for my fuck buddy and his wife. I'm probably not the chick to get dating advice from.
You opened the door to your apartment and shrieked "THE CHAIR IS GONE!" then punted a bag of votive candles
you asked me how to turn on the ladder
I've seen your dick too many times for both of us to be straight.
She shouldn’t care what consenting adults do behind closed doors
You do realize it was her husband you were hooking up with behind that door, right?
He sided with his father, so I slashed his tires. I’d say that’s a fair trade.
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