i know we just met, but i forget your name, and i'm wondering why my penis burns?
I just saw how many times I called you last night. You're welcome.
They peed on our pledges last night... i dont know if i should put an lol at the end of that or not
I just puked in my fish tank. Helloooooo summer.
Woke up to a bouquet of flowers in my toilet bowl. Drunk hubby loves me.
I'm sorry I kept calling last night when you wouldn't pick up. I'm REALLY sorry I sang "You Oughta Know" on more than 4 voice mails.
You puked in the drive thru of Taco Bell. You puked as it was being handed to me. You managed to yell out "FIRE SAUCE" in between hurls.
4 am. She strained the mac and cheese onto her legs. She has no skin.
I know. I almost started crying. IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS THAT A TURN ON?!
While looking for an apartment, I've realized that the way I rate balconies is on the "how easy would it be to smoke weed here" scale.
What other scale is there?
First of all guys don't have walks of shame. Secondly there is nothing more epic than riding the skytrain in a toga while everyone else is going to work
So again no comment on the cleavage. I'm a bit disappointed. If those girls come together to make cleavage AND I send you a pic of it, you have to comment on it. That's like relationship 101.
I am drinking fireball and apple juice out of a sippy cup like a fucking toddler.
Drunk me is basically the Oprah of nudes. Everyone gets one.
My mom is coming to visit today & it's giving me anxiety. I feel like she can see through me & into the whore I've become.
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