it doesn't mae me god, the fact that I am god makes getting dressed futile and tedious... btw i am still drunk
From the crime scene it appears that I attempted to throw up into a candle.
On my arm I have 12 dashes, and below is written "plus 2 pretty stout whiskey drinks, so, you be the judge"
the spit in my mouth is still 99% not mine.
If it wasn't obvious enough to the cops that she was drunk, she threw in, "I like the colors of the lights because it makes purple."
maybe almost giving yourself a concussion counter acts a hangover
We had to leave the bar because you were trying to show the bartender your boobs for water.
I feel like jumping into a breast pit right now. Like the old school ball pits at mcdonalds.
She sucks dick like Beethoven on piano, but talking to her is like Simple Jack in Tropic Thunder. Still working out the pros vs cons list.
I feel like a color. Like a wavy color
I'm pretty sure my liver died in Reno and my intestines are doing hula hoops around my asshole. The bachelor party was that good.
Muscle is literally tearing itself off of my shins. No I am not going on another bar crawl with you.
I'll pay?
Pick me up at 9.
I just want to sing to him and rub baby oil on his head
PLEASE AT LEAST MEOW SO I KNOW YOU AREN'T DEAD
I was simply suggesting that you really should try coke bondage sex.
Randomize
