I think he may have called me a bar rat, jokingly. I said i was but in a non-trashy way.
Every now and then I'll talk to a creeper for an extended amount of time. Randy, for instance, funded our entire night of horrible decisions.
i failed horribly. studying for that final was as pointless as Vinnie is to Jersey Shore
I'm pregnant just thinking about him.
We'll probably be arrested for having a cheetah in our apartment anyway, so I say go for it.
woke up this morning in the hall outside of my parents room with a sign taped to myself that said "im sorry"...
I wouldn't have puked last night if I didn't inhale straight pepper from you shattering the pepper shaker on the wall.
Dude.. full face helmets and hangovers do not mix... I am never going to get rid of the smell of puke.
i mean, not my actual scene but if someone says "PARTY" ill figure it out
I wanted sex but got Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, instead. Then I had to drive 30 minutes home wet. Worst booty call, ever.
I hat to flip my "days since last bad decision" chart back to zero. So...yeah. Sigh.
Did I mention I hooked up with another country star? I think I need some sort of trophy for each time, yah know? Or like a sash and I win a badge or patch for each person. Like a slutty Girl Scout.
He's easy on the eyes, light on his feet, and rough in bed...what more could a girl ask for in a rebound?
I think one make out session at a bar per year is probably the best choice.
It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at.
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