So I have $4.22 in my bank account, just wrote a check for a tooth brush from quikmart, and bought a 25 cent condom from the bathroom. i don't know whats more sad, my bank account or the fact that i'm entrusting my entire future to a condom machine that was probably last filled in 1970
I'm blazed at jack in the box and my order number is 420. I wish everything in the world made this much sense.
So Ive decided I have serious issues. Im walking around the school with a bag labeled booze money collecting from people while slightly hungover at 8:20 in the morning, and nobody is questioning me.
My vagina hasn't been this smooth since I was 8. I better get laid tonight.
some crying dude holding an empty fifth of burnetts just showed up at our door and asked 'do i live here?'
Just because its your birthday does not mean u can play quarters by dropping quarters into cups to make me drink.
You know when the three of us hug it out in the alcohol isle in walmart it's gonna be fun.
I should have questioned it early on when they said bring beer and chocolate syrup
We left the knife in your bed.
I owe a guy a shoe because I threw it over a fence. That is all.
Why do I even exist?
Is it frowned upon to puke at Keeneland while you're betting on horses or is it just whatev
Nothing says Panama City like condoms washing up on the shore.
I need a drink. No, several. I need several drinks. Drunk, I need to be drunk. Definitely need to be drunk
I could be the Kenny Powers of Sex Therapists.
You are now at the point where people no longer question whether or not you might be on drugs. They now know for certain that you are
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