They only remember me when they're drunk...I'm like a suppressed memory.
My mother's day gift to my mother is to promise never to tell her 95% of the stories I've accumulated in my life.
it's like a replay of two fridays ago...except not in a motel and i'm not having sex in the shower.
i'll prob lay in bed. its weird not having to track my wallet down, its become such a weekly habit. i suddenly have so much free time
critical mistake not lubing the nipples
I smell like I just crawled out of a bottle of champagne and landed on the floor of taco bueno.
Were not alcoholics, were just impatient for fridays
I walked from the hotel to the club with a pint of tequila in my boot. Poured some in a homeless woman's mouth when she asked for change. I've hit rock bottom.
im eating mac and cheese with a makeup brush. there is wayyyyy too much wrong with this night.
Its a little weird going to a wedding where I've screwed the bride and my wife has screwed the groom. Great wedding though.
Like her Facebook page isn't even hers. It belongs to her tits. It's Titsbook
Please assure him that the flying penis statue is for display purposes only.
At least one of us had a weekend full of money and dick
I gave him a BJ and he left. Coincidentally that's the name of my memoir.
Also I will be receiving my own bra in the mail because I left it at his place, woops
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