I had a dream last night that I had to pretend I liked Dave Matthews Band to impress this girl I was talking to.
I guess it was more of a nightmare.
So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
yeah that pretty much nipped itself in the bud when I realized i could see her whiteheads glowing in the blacklight
Matt just took me to visit my puke stain from 2 weeks ago at the train station...I'm fucking impressive
I just got cut off for correcting the bartender's grammar. I should have never accepted that fucking editors position.
I've only been home four days and my parents' cleaning lady already wrote down the number to AA and told me she's praying for me.
There's a knife in my toilet. And I meant to ask you last night if you got a hair cut?
I forgot my id and a man called soup is buying me vodka.
Look at my eyebrows in this pic! We deffo need to go back to that waxing place.
You have a cock in one hand and a shot in the other. Your eyebrows are not the topic in need of discussion.
There's a guy in here whose face looks like it would be perfect between my legs.
I realize it truly is impossible to burrow under the grass like a mole. Let's not drink for at least another 3 days.
Tiny.
I mean tony. It's like autocorrect knows he wasn't well endowed.
I'm using my breathalyzer result sheet as a coaster for my 40.
When I told her I was deaf and took my hearing aids out at night to sleep, she said it must be nice not having to hear drunken roommates having awkward sex late at night.
you bounced a quarter off my butt and it came back hitting you in the eye. karma, bitch.
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