sorry if i was weird last night, had weird deja vu that we had done that before, i mean with the peanut butter.
we had.
well that explains the rash. i dont think i should see you again.
I judge my drunkenness on my brickbreaker playing skills. I'm winning. Suck it.
god damn woman. you are like the herpes of drunk texting. you never go away.
Anything that's based on a blow job I'm in favor of.
Either she got face surgery at midnight, or i need to stop drinking...
if my spotter knew I was listening to the Wicked soundtrack on my iPod, I wouldn't even be mad if he dropped the barbell on my throat
I'm thinking of writing "I have herpes" on my stomach in sharpie that way I'm not tempted to show my tits tonight
Just so we're on the same page, we cannot have been the first people to have ever thought about shooting that guy with crossbow
you blew your rape whistle in his face every time he got near a girl till he left the party...
She called me in the morning crying, but I was busy cleaning up bird guts, very hungover. It was a very surreal morning.
This is stressing me out. I feel like I need to eat the dick.
Can we go to Home Depot next week? Drunk Kim broke my toilet with a hammer.
I don't want his dick, I want his flame thrower!!
Hey, don't blame me for the shitty evening; I wasn't the one who promised hookers, Dos Equis and foster kittens. Keith was.
She calls him the walking dildo to his face. That relationship is already fucked up.
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