Worst part was I had to fart super bad and didn't want to ruin the room so I farted in a pillow and threw it under the bed.
His pubic hair was longer than his dick
A relator touring our house this week saw the picture in our bathroom of steven passed out, yellow faced, with BALLS on his forehead, and had to ask "if that kid was alive or dead".
He said I taste like butterscotch, licked me, then I'm pretty sure he wet his pants. So no, I do not want to invite him over.
The trip involved octopus tentacles coming from the little holes in my TV's speakers. The beauty of the nonexistant symbolism had me in tears.
I miss the good ol' days when we would yell at strangers from your balcony while wearing our mexican ponchos in the middle of the day.
what ever happened to our old dealer?
I just realized I consumed seven different types of alcohol this weekend. And I'm only counting jungle juice as one of those. How the fuck did I not die?
"Functional." Your standards for how you feel after drinking are so high.
When your night starts by chugging margarita and drinking vodka out of tupperware, I feel it's best to stay realistic.
You have not lived until you've had your brains fucked out on a broken down Tunnel of Love ride. Life is good.
Sleeping with him wouldn't be considered hoeing out... It seems more like babysitting.
My potted cactus died. I am literally less nurturing than the desert.
Because I chose to live vicariously through your uterus and you're letting me down right now.
At one point in the night, as we were running from the cops, I clearly remember you yelling "little gnomes are tickling the insides of my body!" ...that high.
No fucking Jell-O shots or meth. Those are the rules
Dude she is fucking shit up. Her baby would be proud
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