a.k.a. fuck you for judging how much I drink.
My liver and I, we don’t see eye to eye (and, on a different note, fuck your brain for reading Fifty Shades of Grey).
Agreed. That’s why fake people choose designer drugs and real people go for the alcoholic golden ticket.
A hard-hitting question.
And so, I am an alcoholic because you’re never not boring otherwise.
How to drink a Colt 45 (or anything else with any alcoholic content).
That’s what I’m counting on.
We all need to pass time on the train somehow.
This tumblelog is powered by Tumblr, and was designed by Bill Israel.