4:25 am: I want you here. Ugh.
I just woke up under a kitchen table with my sandals taped to my feet and a corona bottle taped to my hand..
i did make 45 jello shots and that makes me feel more productive then any paper would
I have glow sticks stuck to my boobs and a missed call from the 911. I'd say last night was a success.
Guess who left Professor Cunt on their paper by accident?
As I am reading this. I'm standing in my underwear eating taquitos. I'm saying this in the most loving way possible: FUCK OFF.
i don't know what part of 'duct tape bikini waxes' seemed even a little okay in our drunk minds, but i'm never drinking with your sister again
I think all the stress in my life right now can be directly correlated with never winning a game of Bop It as a child.
I should rephrase... I'm trying to not sit on other peoples faces besides my boyfriends.
He's balder, I'm skinnier. I win. I. Win.
Meh, all I have to do tomorrow is proctor an AP test. No loud noises and no physical activity allowed for almost 4 hours. Sounds like the perfect recovery period for a hangover.
I recall trading my iPhone watch for a carton of Marlboros.
Goddamn right, I may not survive the apocalypse, but my eyebrows fucking will.
Just puked. First it was bright neon blue then it turned to bright lime green. How does that even happen? And wtf was I drinkin last night?
As you were falling you yelled out, "save my burrito!" Priorities
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