I'm drunk. And at a vegan cafe. You would hate it. Don't tell my hipster friend but I kinda hate it too.
I don't want to have to wonder if I'm draining my pasta in the same side of the sink you pissed in
the girl next to me just texted someone in her phone named Optimus Prime
...i wonder what he did to earn that nickname
My dry heaving is complicating my ability to speak.
And I'm ok with his balls touching my ass
he's hot he just has too much baggage, and has really fucking skinny ankles which freaks me out
you aren't having sex with his ankles, As long as knee caps and above are good, i'd go for it
I'm going to start referring to my liver is Livy. I feel like if I give it an affectionate nickname it will hate me less. Livy isn't ready for syllabus week.
I think we all know your liver needs a man's name.
I need to get a job that holds me accountable for something. Otherwise I wake upon Monday wondering when the booze store opens and if I still have a boyfriend.
By the way, do you realize that you asked me how much you could get for your eggs last night. And once you learned the price said that you had plenty to share.
Btw, if I didn't have 3 limbs in restraints and my free hand offing myself with the pocket rocket, I would have snap chatted you. Next time.
I feel like my body was put in a dryer with rocks set on permanent press.
Being single/not living at home sucks. All I want is someone I can force to pick up my pizza for me so I don't have to talk to anyone.
Hey, thanks for not calling the cops when I answered the door naked, high as fuck, and covered in red velvet cake batter.
Giant stained glass jesus is judging my black pleather pants
Seriously considering taking a nap at lunchtime in my car. That. Hung. Over.
Randomize
