So I feel really bad about last night...can i give you a blow job and we call it even?
the last thing i remember is ordering pitchers of white russians....
She's an ex-convict. She actually got stabbed in the face with a pen while in prison. No big deal.
I booty called her while she was in labor.
I feel like we need a drunken piñata bash with your face being the piñata and my hopes and dreams being the stick
My night was too much. My morning is even more. Help. I need to teleport the fuck out of here.
In my defense, there are at least three ways to die doing that, and I'm still here. America, Fuck Yeah!
Ain't no cockblock like hearing the word"HOOODOOORR!" shouted from the bedroom floor while in the middle of sex.
My liver is preforming stress tests.
Thank you for stroking my rage monster tonight.
That awkward moment when the guy you were hitting on at the bar last night is a possible suspect in a murder case.
My liver can't handle being unemployed!
You kept calling yourself a spider monkey... Then ran to the bathroom to "prepare for the main event"
These random guys found me. They told me not to wander in the woods and i remember saying 'am i fucking Bambi?! I'm not gonna walk into woods!' then i threw up.
Like how do you live your life and have never made a grilled cheese? The audacity of some people
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