I swear ... this hickey is a map to Amelia Earhart's whereabouts
Apparently last night I sat at the bar with an upside down sharpie lightning bolt on my forehead, yelling "It's Harry Potter's birthday! Let me be on the qudditch team!" And I kept calling the bartender Dobby. There are videos.
Finally jerked of with a banana peel.
The walk of shame isn't so shameful when you do it in a stolen, autographed Favre jersey.
btw good call for not making out for a pitcher of vodka, this hangover is bad enough
I actually don't know if I can stand up. I just know better than to try
A sandwich with pizza as the bread. I love you.
YES WITH THE SQUARE KIND OF SLICES
Let's just say after this weekend I'm known as Shameous the Irish bar fighter.
My life is over. I farted in open court. Noticeably. The judge looked at me. It echoed.
He was twisted. Literally. It's like God took his dick with a pair of pliers and gave it a half twist to the left.
Oh god. I just had a sex dream about the talking dog from the Bush's Baked Beans commercials.
Oh and yeah that does count as public urination.
Let me rub your butt and eat French fries from your mouth and dip them in your ketchup filled belly button.
He kept saying "Welcome to Indianapolis" over and over while we were having sex...because that's his hometown. I was scared and confused... I didn't know if I should have said thank you or what.
I made you bacon and gave you a blow job. I'd say you had a pretty great day.
Randomize
