Thanks for getting me home last night.
No worries. I'll always be there for you, just like Mufasa.
you convinced the bartender to un-cut you off by letting him touch your boobs whenever you ordered a drink.
You spilled spaghetti on the floor, and kept telling the noodles to "settle down" as you tried to clean it up
Vodka @ 9pm. Library. Nothing can go wrong, I promise.
I'm at breakfast at my kid's school and I have noted at least 3 other parents with last night's red wine mouth and bleary eyes. I don't know why I always get so paranoid.
Whenever there is a ShotSki involved, I have no excuse but to drink, right? It's like a rule.
Omfg amy I'm not kidding you I think a blow job is what landed me in the hospital
She thinks Jesus was an astronaut.
Just try not to burn your pubes off with sparklers this year.
No promises
it still weirds me out that Robin Thicke is Alan Thicke's son
As long as you don't want to make a shrine out of my eyelashes It's all good
Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.
There was a clear and well defined point last night where I could've decided to go home but no now I've woken up with glitter all over my nuts and potentially an std or 2
I just said "you do you" to my penis.
The cashier looked at my basket, looked at me and said "That's a lot of wine." I looked at her and said "Mother in law." She nodded approvingly.
Randomize
