Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
All we had was a keg so we played edward nalgene-hands
By the end of the night i was making legitimate noises not just saying moo.
We're making herpes jokes very loudly and hoping she notices.
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This is a test of Andrews drunk texting, had this been an actual drunk text, all the words would be spelled incorrectly and would be missing key verbs and nouns, followed by a request to not get fired.
She looked at me and said "i like penises." and then passed out with her condom balloon animal in her hands.
I have a feeling she doesn't appreciate me as a person. She only fucks me because I look like Harry Potter.
i was debating whether to load antoher bowl when i realized i was holding a sandwich in one hand and a cookie in the other. and laughing.
I remember all the people and all the acts I just have to match the person with the act
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I think I've just evolved into some kind of vodka fueled monster
Easter bunny might get some gnarly munches and not even have enought candy left to hand out
The time stamp on this text message is reason enough alone to not leave me unsupervised
He seemed genuinely disappointed when I told him I wasn't going to make out with him to Bring Me To Life by Evanescence so I feel like I've pinpointed the breaking point of this relationship
he came over last night and we fucked with the great british baking show on in the background. it was beautiful
I’m doing tequila shots with lesbians. This isn’t how I planned my night but I’m not complaining
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