FYI... At my funeral, it will be your job to throw yourself dramatically onto my casket.
I'm about two and a half drinks away from gay.
I'm coming over.
...Then she just started hitting me with a loaf of bread.
I'm drunk on a monday night. Not a good start to finals week
I walked in and you were laying on the floor bleeding everywhere half asleep half crying and moe was at the kitchen table eating frozen pizza refusing to acknowledge you. What a sight.
Woke up in my underwear and Christmas sweater. Only. Eggnog has won the battle but not the war.
Found plan b box covered with blood. In kitchen sick. Pickle jar is empty. Wtf happened?
I think i was just meant to be a stripper. A ballerina stripper cat
I sewed up my pants, stole his girlfriends white shirt, and went to work hungover like a responsible adult.
Went to put my shoe on and asked myself why I left a sock in it. I didn't. Needless to say I found our used condom.
So I think my motto should be "losing bras and dignity every weekend" but like in a really amazing way
Checking my Tinder matches as I sit here in the waiting room at Planned Parenthood. I can't be stopped.
I named my Roomba after my pot dealer. I have a problem, don't i?
Let's say we can see the evolution of our "relation" by his name in my phone. Pizza slice emoticone. Pizza guy. Jordan. Jo. Jackhammer Pizza Guy. Jockhammer pizza guy.
Have you ever thought, hey maybe the reason we were togather that long was because I was drunk the whole relationship?
Randomize
