I'm outside your house...sorry I feel like I don't need formal invites anymore.
I had my own version of the Hangover last night. I woke up to a disassembled Christmas tree, shit on the futon, and a hamster in the bathroom with a necklace on that said "Feed Me Bitch." I don't own a hamster. I don't know what I drank last night, but I want to do it again.
You know, it's scary to think that someday I might buy a pregnancy test with pride, not at 2am...
Last night I dreamed I was having gay sex in prison. That's the last time we go to theme night at the club.
You know what's soul crushing? Walking to subway and find out you were too drunk to put on shoes and being denied service.
Um. I literally have no words.
There's a girl in the bathroom crying about something having to do with cream cheese.
I just remember being happy that I got that toilet fixed so I had somewhere close to throw up
Remember when I got my car stuck in my backyard?
She's like an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, tossed in miller light, inside a question. Nobody can explain a Heather.
Apparently "dick me" was not the response he was looking for.
It's two in the afternoon, I'm on my third glass of wine and I'm watching Lambchop on youtube. How do you think I feel right now?
Plus i lost a button on my shirt and we got free drinks all night. Sorry I'm not sorry.
I am a figure skater. You should know better than to let me get drunk near any patches of ice during Olympics season.
She called to say the cops were not fake cops. some one has to go get her in an hour
His eyefucking isn't even normal eyefucking; it's eye anal.
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