my brain is sober enough to have a conversation.. but my arms feel nice
I hope to God it wasnt poon. That odor was unnatural, it was satanic pussy.
So I'm really hungover walking to work and these douches from comcast on bikes ask if they can take a picture with me to show that they're doing their job. The picture: me, this chick from comcast, i'm holding a 2 ft. pixie stick, a comcast flyer and i'm puking in the parking lot. sounds like their doing a good job!
My night sucks. It's really hard to masturbate with a broken finger.
Hes trying to fuck me on a bear rug. Not saying no.
Shit dude that sort of wholesale destruction can't just be done at the drop of a hat
Almost bit the guy's hand who sits in front of me because he was stretching. That. Bored.
He crawled outside into the bushes to throw up. He's just laying there now but he says he'll be ready to come home if we just give him five
When we were texting for those few weeks, I some how established a crush on you. And its weird and wild and stupid and silly. But these things just have to be said sometimes to determine what's real and what is infatuation. And to suffer the consequences of five am drunk philosophy. No regrets.
It's accurate though. I am legitimately passionate about pickles. I crave pickles the same way I crave sex. It is a deep rooted animalistic need
I cant see straight, her clothes are all over my floor and I'm covered in bite marks... No I will not go to brunch with you
My hungover walk of shame was interrupted by a stranger on a balcony throwing me a beer to shotgun... at 10 a.m....
Yesterday we were fuck buddies and today I'm meeting his mom. That escalated quickly.
These morning walks of shame have became my morning jogs
So many questions...the two most important are, where the fuck is my booze and how did you even get the couch through the door?
Randomize
