This martini tastes like the bartender stirred it with his foreskin.
No more Irish car bombs ever.
My lack of memory is directly related to being friends with you.
mom and dad sent me an easter basket full of beer pong supplies again.
I guess you don't realize how much twelve bags of chips are, until they're all over your floor.
I AM SAFE. EVERYTHING IS FOG. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
Ugh. This is the type of hangover that all other hangovers want to grow up to be.
Hahahaaa There's this one girl crying hysterically and wrapped around (i believe) her ex's leg. He's trying to shake her off without spilling his beer. This is fucking priceless.
I hate find pieces of condom wrappers on carpet. It's like god is throwing flakes of shame for me to vacuum up
my parents have to start far too many of our conversations with the sentence "this is an observation, not a judgment" than I'm proud of
SHUN THE NONBELIEVERS. THUS SAYS THE NIPPLE LORD
Never start off a conversation with "speaking of STD's..."
I walked into your room and you were wearing party beads, a foam finger, and reading the dictionary. Good night?
Every dick I’ve had or wanted in the last year is married. It’s like I became a professional home wrecker after I graduated.
Call me a snob but I'm not banging chicks with more fingers than teeth.
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