We were so bored at work tonight that we were in dry storage taking turns pouring the boxed wine we use for cooking into each others' mouths. I think I'm starting to understand the "problem" aspect of "drinking problem."
He just pushed one of his testicles up into his stomach and called himself lance armstrong. I can't make this shit up.
I brought his matress to the living room we're laying on it listening to rick james drinking vodka
like a dude with a badge in a golf cart is gunna do shit. Unless he has a tazer. Then it's fair game.
Nothing sez sunday morning like waking up in a phonebooth with a leg cramp.
Apparently I'm ahead in the foot race to his dick because I'm not insane. If I'd have known that's all it took, I'd have worn sweat pants more often.
You know you're hung-over when you're smoking and have the strong urge to eat the cigarette. No more buckets of gin. No. More. Ever.
She sneezed like 10 times, put her head down on the table and then laid down on their couch and fell asleep. In the middle of the dominoes game. I'll never understand why my dad continues to provide my mom wine.
With a butt like mine I'll never have to pay for Netflix again.
He told me that he's proud of our abnormalcy as a couple. I think it's the most romantic thing he's ever said.
Any idea why my ass cheeks are bruised again?
The fact that theyre bruised AGAIN means you're not adult enough to know why.
You spilt a drink on my couch, then used my dog to mop it up... you called her a mop dog, repeatedly
We were on the beach when you spilled sand in the bottle and said "relax it's vodka, it'll disinfect itself"
My neck is sore from all the headbanging. And I can't tell the difference between the jello stains and cum stains.
Looks like taco salad for lunch. I may have died and gone to be better circle in hell than I thought.
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