We played Rock, Paper, Scissors last night to see who was the least drunk to drive.
The Rock won.
I can't believe believe she called me a slut. She doesn't know anything about me or my life.
Shit, that's something a lot of sluts say.
I felt like Norm from Cheers walking into the free clinic.
I have a new reason to go to work: I can tell which 3 of my coworkers are sisters just by looking at their butts.
I just found 51 cents in my bed. Did you leave me a tip?
She's not depressed. She's just sober. It's like the same thing.
areolas are like halos for boobs.
If I don't have herpes this will be the single greatest day of my life
I could write a book on how to barely get by in community college. I just took an online quiz on my phone, at the bar, 6 minutes before it was due.
high enough to want to lick peanut butter off of Michael Buble's vocal chords as he serenades me.
But fine, we can play that game. You can come over and we can have totally platonic, long, boring discussions. Or we can fuck. Whatever.
You know how hard it is to play cool while not drowning and appreciating a pair of butts at the same time?
They figured our he was high when he told the manager he wanted a break to go wrap his dick in toliet paper and pretend it was a ghost.
I'm sure he'll make the rejection quick and completely justified.
It's 1:26 and I have already found 5 fruit flies between 3 separate glasses of wine. This is supposed to be a summer problem. Fucking global warming.
Randomize
