Here's my recipe for happiness. Go get a pen. 1. smoke a bowl 2. put on explosions in the sky 3. take a bath. Do this for about 1 hour or until all your problems go away.
I'm not sure how exactly, but this funeral has turned into a ridiculous night of drinking games
He was hiding behind my bedroom door. at noon. Wearing a t shirt. And a condom. Not attractive.
announcing that you were the mayor of bjtown got their attention.
The fact that every guy you've slept with since you've lost virginty either have the same first or last name isn't normal.
Last thing I remember is beer bonging sangria. Dear God.
That's like being smoked out by a unicorn. If the opportunity presents itself you fucking do it and don't ask questions.
No, supporting your unemployed boyfriend IS NOT what credit cards are for.
I'm a bit broke right now... Would it be OK if I pay you in champagne and Xanax?
She is dumping me if she doesn't get a ring by Valentines. So one more month of free sex and it will be back to the right hand.
Fuck baseball, getting drunk and playing with kittens is the REAL national pasttime
Saw your dad at the bar last night... And again this morning when he left. Told you not to mess with me bitch.
If I hear you use the phrase "silky soft scrotum" one more time I swear to God you'll regret it
And when were you going to tell me to stop dancing on his coffee table singing "come on irene?"
Granted every 20 shifts of working there you seem to be on par to receive some sort of racy satisfying sexual encounter which money can’t buy
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