So I was throwing up in this fancy toilet at a party last night, when he decided it would be funny to flush it. It was a beday. I had to walk out with toilet water and regurgitated rumpleminze all over my face and shirt.
I was working er so they smashed a vodka bottle over dan's head so they'd have an excuse to visit
I am dressing up to go buy weed. I need to get out more.
Just watched a drug bust from the Ralphs parking lot while listening to Frank Sinatra. Happy Valentine's Day.
I am so 35 right now. Listening to REM, drinking red wine, and crying over an article about ecstasy in oprah magazine.
Maybe I should forgo underwear.
This is a family BBQ no?
I am literally sitting on the toilet in utter disbelieve that last night even happened. My god that was only Monday.
Getting cock-blocked by Jeff Bridges. NOT OKAY.
Come on, without my personality, I'm a pretty good one night stand.
Omg. I felt like a crazed animal last night. My lesbian instincts burned a hole in my panties.
I almost spit out my drink. But only almost, because it was vodka. And you don't spit out vodka.
He was literally going down on me and giving me a foot rub AT THE SAME TIME. What more can I ask for?
I just want the relationship Bob and Linda Belcher have- is that too much to ask?!
I'M IN A SPINNING VORTEX OF SELF-HATRED AND HORNINESS
I want sex. When is an appropriate time post funeral to ask for something like that. Like when it gets dark out?
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