Only at my house do scrabble games turn into fist fights. I won though... the fight not the board game.
I'd like to come home and be able to sleep in a bed that's not filled with crumbs from you getting too high and passing out while eating. This is seriously getting ridiculous.
I just drank til 6am then boned a 32 yr old that looks exactly like ET. Oh god.
I just had a flashback of 4:30am: me hugging the toilet bowl and you handing me a jar of pickles to open. There is something seriously wrong with us.
I don't know what's worse: going to the liquor store at 9am or knowing that its open at 9am
I miss waking up knowing you're passed out under my bed.
He and I are basically the same person, except he has a glorious penis and I have glorious breasts.
The bartender just hugged us goodnight. I think we go there too often.
I think I will always strangely appreciate as well as kick ass at stoned dishes. Like for the rest of my life. Thank you slave job at Starbucks.
Can we just cry and dive into a couch-sized bag of sadness-chips, dip them in a la-z-boy sized jar of depression salsa while watching a show called 'Forget Your Hopes and Dreams, Just Kill Yourself'?
Wait is this black Chris #1, cocaine Chris, or gay Chris?
No this is saxophone Chris
That broad from the bar put her name in my phone as "The girl I'm going to marry in 10 years".
You know you're high when, "Why can't I steal the duck?!" Becomes a serious question.
It makes me feel all patriotic & free... And borderline diabetic.
Noo not in a booty call way, in a 'How are your abs and penis doing today?' sort of way.
Randomize
