What's the point in getting all dressed up and going when i'm just gonna throw up on myself by midnight?
I'm buying you potatoes, the least you could do is not ask any fucking questions and just say thank you.
I am 100% planning on being drunk on Wednesday. This is America. Work or no work.
To sum up. The glass blower from the ren faire ate me out last night. Best ever. Go find yourself an artisan.
My dick can't jump between your dick and her mouth, man. It's impossible, I think.
There really needs to be a redbox for wine because I want some but too lazy to walk into a store
There is a midget driving a powered tricycle around town. I am not drunk, stoned, or lying.
An old man just slapped my ass and handed me five dollars while I was filling chips at subway. I feel violated, but that was the easiest five dollars I've ever made.
Someone should make a valentines day card that says "I like the way you continuously consume thc with no concept of a limit other than drug supply" Because I'd send that to you.
I woke up with my vibrator in my bed so I'm assuming I had a decent night.
I can't wash the smell of tacos off my hands. I feel like the Lady Macbeth of Chipotle.
My boss doesn't know what jello shots are. I've lost faith in this company.
He asked me who my new boyfriend was and I showed him a picture of my sex toys.
No no this isn't that fun. I'm alone drinking wine and me and the dogs ran out of things to talk about around 9 am.
I just walked in on Joel doing a buck naked tripod headstand in front of the mirror so he could see the bug bite on his balls
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