i woke up this morning in my bathroom,naked, with my boxers around my face and puke and shit on the floor and wondering why i didn't have a toenail on my one big toe.
compared to you, a hobo is quite responsible.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I'm in a trailer park. But I'm not scared. The virgin always lives.
a commercial for my antidepressant came on and they said you shouldn't take if if you drink right as i took a shot
god is laughing at you again
At what point are you a chubby chaser or just desperate for sex?
I'm not sure which is worse. The fact that I slept with him last night, or the fact that you did too.
It's that "make a Pringle and Twinkie sandwich" kind of depression.
Apparently all year they've been using me as a standard of drunkenness
Judging by the garbled spelling in the calendar reminders in my phone, drunk me really wanted sober me to take a pregnancy test today.
We found you facedown on his couch in a pile of cheerios, with only one shoe on. Dude you said you were staying in last night.
Hearing them have a conversation is like listening to water buffalo have sex. Awkward and scarring.
The picture on Facebook I was just tagged in, with the mask, that is the definition of Carmen, my drunk alter ego
COCAINE AND SUSPENSFUL BBC SHOWS DO NOT WORK.
My disney ticket is covered in lube, do you think they will accept it?
If you fucking touch my phone and text people, drunk or sober, ever again, i will shove a swizle stick up your pee hole.
Randomize
