i wouldn't be half as slutty if there were better things to do.
Wait wait wait. I remember riding in her car to the next bar. On your lap. With my head on the dashboard. That probably should have been my cut off point.
The guy I fucked in San Diego is camping with us for coachella... Awk.
I wish dancing around my house in my bra and underwear to Love Shack whilst eating strawberry cake batter was an acceptable form of exercise.
I'm hungover as hell. I'm dying. I have no skin left on my knees
I think it was the free bomb shots from the creepy bolivians that sent us over the edge
I would let Bear Grills repel down a waterfall using my dick if I could go to sleep right now.
You'll have to pretend I'm texting you with buddychecks.
Like the Jimeny Cricket of cockblocks.
She's comparing the feel of breasts to shredded cabbage. Weirdest. Grandmother. Ever.
There was just a girl standing next to me on the train, wasted, wearing only one shoe. I so wanted to pat her on the shoulder and say "oh honey, we've all been there"
when I type Christina's, my phone's predictive text assumes my next word is boobage
And I'm sorry for punching you in the face when I drunkenly threw my sandwich
it went well until I said "me" instead of "my" and he kept sexting me in character as a pirate
I was so drunk, he put me to bed and went down stairs to hang out with his friends. Apparently, I was curled up in the closet, spooning the dresser when he came back up.
I think I am just gonna marry that lesbian. She is more of a respectful gentleman than any of the guys I've slept with.
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