That bitch is like a bad destiny's child song.
good call on bringing her. it's always good to invite chicks who mix booze and prescription drugs.
we marched down beaver avenue with lit tiki torches humming the olympics opening song.
he somehow instantly knew i was from vermont.
it probably had something to do with chasing your soco with maply syrup.
She carried my bag of puke down the aisle and the flight attendant wouldn't move the beverage cart so she put the puke bag in the flight attendant's face and said "I have a bag of sickness!" I've never seen a cart move that fast.
You're the only person I know who would be upset about making out with a girl you like. You're like a drunken Charlie Brown.
Add caroling to the list of things we need to do in an elevator
once he tried to wake me up from my hangover nap to have sex, that's when things went downhill. he had to go.
Didn't know where your dishes went. Put em in the bathtub. They're stacked taller than you. It's like modern art.
You can't talk like Dr. Evil to me five minutes after the greatest orgasm of my life.
Observations from Vegas: #1. Strippers pasties pose a choking hazard. #2. Best. Heimlich. Ever.
He was licking my ear while recommending that I shop at IKEA. I think he's my perfect guy.
Ehh, the third backed out. Two still isn't bad. Who gets a bootycall to pick them up from a bootycall's house anyways? Only me.
I passed out in my bed, but woke up on the dog bed,with no pants, snuggling with toilet paper and a bottle of softsoap. Ive hit a new low.
Put down the Captain Crunch and get over here. It’s a dickfest!!
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