Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
I know i'm drunk when the "men" sign on the bathroom sounds chinese
The make-up sex just reminded me why we broke up in the first place.
It's called penis withdraw. Or alcoholism. I get them confused these days.
I got kicked out of an open bar wedding reception. The bride "felt threatened" by my presence. Not my fault she's ugly
I woke up to the sound of a beer can being opened. I love him already
tell me why there is a bowl of oatmeal from starbucks in my purse
Tell me right now I did the right thing by not fucking my sick gf at 3 am with her family home... Tell me my balls hurt for noble reasons.
I WAS a history major. I also WAS a functioning human being. Fuck gin.
If you're not peeing in public bi-monthly, you're not really living.
I've come to the conclusion all of your awkward and complicated male encounters could easily be intercepted by a man town Yankee candle and a vibrator. Sleep on that tell me your thoughts in the morning. Sweet dreams.
Went kayaking. drunk. DID NOT FALL IN. Mission succesful.
You kept screaming, "Fuck her right in the personality" and then kissed a guy and slapped him across the face
We need to borrow someone's dog. Just so we can non-creepily go to PetSmart and watch all the other dogs take photos with Santa
I think I deserve an award for the breakup text I sent him. Like a pulitzer prize or a donut or something.
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