I wish i could make my toaster dance like they do in the second ghostbusters. But i dont have ectoplasmic goo. Or a toaster.
I'm done trying to be a vegetarian. My vagina smells like hummus.
Even if he doesn't call, at least I can say i fucked a mascot.
You can't just say things like "great depression theme party" and then not respond.
It just gets louder and louder too...dear god. Her poor vagina.
So i forgot that my head is completely wrapped in gauze, and tried to do the "come hither" look. He think's i'm brain damaged
In chronological order you drank, sang, smoked, napped, threw up, cried, laughed, described your pubic area, passed out. You have abused the privilege to use me as your D.D.
You don't know reunion panic until you've exfoliated your butt cheeks.
Well i would have gone to the bar but Satan decided to hold his rituals in my uterus.
AMERICA LOVES YOU. RIDE THAT DICK LIKE PAUL REVERE RODE HIS HORSE SO MANY YEARS AGO
I wasn't even hungover I was just mourning my dignity
My potted cactus died. I am literally less nurturing than the desert.
Threw up on break at work. That brings our collective tally to 9 times. We can never drink like that on a monday again
I need an outfit for the bar tmrw that reads I have daddy issues and would like a fancy sugar daddy.
I just wanna go home jackoff, eat chicken fingers, drink beer, play halo and go to bed. I'm sick of this shitty school, the shitty kids and having to fucking teach them.
Randomize
