So I went outside my house this morning and basically my entire front lawn is covered in gummi bears... I think that involves you guys.
How can it be called memorial day weekend....I don't even remember this weekend
That still doesn't explain why you thought it was a good idea to paint a cow on my guitar
There's a litter of kittens in my bathtub and beer cans everywhere. I want my apartment key back.
Ok. In one sink is a hairdrier. Still plugged in. The other is filled with broken glass. What do I do?!
Nvm. Bloody hand trumps dead. Also, where is gauze.
As weird as that was it was probably the best advice i've ever gotten from a tranny
Vodka infused whipped cream. Shit just got real.
I've now graduated to the level of gay where I can tell Tegan and Sara apart.
I miss the smell of you or some shit.
#1- I went to button my shirt only to find they were all mising. #2- I'm so fu@king sore I feel like I was sweating to the oldies all night. #3- this pounding headache I have, I blame solely on Jennifer. Everyone sounds like Billy Mays when they talk. I remember nothing from last night, I'm concerned.
Oh that's what I forgot last night.. To make out with her.
But you can't tell me I give the best blow jobs and then not break up with your girlfriend who has fucking TMJ! Come on!
Yes. That was the exact moment of my conscience clicking into instant high alert.
He grabbed at it like it was a stress ball or something. It's a boob, not a grapefruit. The fuck.
If he ever pulls my hair again, I'm going to conveniently have lock jaw. Then he can decide whether pain during sex is still fucking appealing.
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