I’ve never seen a soldier-coming-home show that didnt make me cry. TSM.
I’ve never seen a soldier-coming-home show that didnt make me cry. TSM.
If you match your eye shadow to your outfit, I refuse to acknowledge your existence. TSM.
“I wasn’t even that drunk!” TSM.
Debating whether I would rather live a long, pale life or a short, tan one. TSM.
Sucking up to seniors in order to increase the amount of stuff you will get at senior wills. TSM.
The “Will this picture send me to standards?” moment when uploading pictures to Facebook. TSM.
The one who holds my hair is the one who holds my heart. TSM.
“Well, I wouldn’t have done it, but it was Spring Break, soo…” TSM.
Drank vodka on St. Patrick’s Day. Green beer is for geeds. TSM.
To crop them out, or to not crop them out. That is the question. TSM.
Irrational anger at your fratdaddy after reading the TFM you THINK he posted. TSM.
“I didn’t go to that, but I ordered the t-shirt anyway because it was cute.” TSM.
I catch myself almost saying “I know” instead of “thank you” on the reg. TSM.
Your bracket is messed up? Is that like…a disorganized pinterest board? I don’t get it. TSM.
I don’t want to dislike her, she just makes it so easy. TSM.
The inappropriateness of your night being directly proportional to the extent to which your nail polish is chipped in the morning.
One day I’ll be president…of the PTA. TSM.
Automatically favoriting the seniors’ tweets because they’re, like, totally wise. TSM.
Norts to workout, Lilly to blackout. TSM.
Celebrating your entire birth month, not just your birthday. TSM.