I'm not really sure how I got home, but judging by this headache, i'm assuming it involved bourbon.
I have a running excel spreadsheet detailing the number of shots in a night and subsequent ability to masturbate
She called all of my friends to find out where I was last night. 7 out of ten said their place.
I remember three things: you falling down an entire flight of stairs, me stripping out of your Christmas one-sie to do cartwheels in my underwear, and people standing above me saying, "where did that bump on her head come from?"
Also, I was told I kept the antlers on the entire time. I'm deeming last night a success.
My night consisted of weed, sex, and Mexican food. In that order. I think we found the keys to saving our marriage.
Dude... You called me at 3am to tell me you still had your pants.
He left his phone. Turns out he;s been sexting with some girls who can't spell. Time to break out the herpes scare.
We were debating whether you had hooked up with him. I was right for the record.
We fucked like animals and then decided we actually liked each other so then we made love. It's a match made in heaven.
WTF moment this morning: we were getting ready to leave and he reaches under his mattress to pull out his gun. All I could do was look at him and go "really?!"
He came home at 2 AM on roller skates with his hair dyed pink while singing "Sweet Transvestite" and throwing glitter on all of us and everything we own. We had to call a cleaning guy.
He was 6'8" - I shit you not! He sat up in my bed and the ceiling fan got him right in the forehead.
You know the rule about how you feel bad for getting food and not offering other people you're around, does that apply when you eat burger king at a strip club?
Last thing I remember at your house last night is your dad leaning on the beer pong table and saying "you guys can fucking party"
Grabbed the cop's ass and he still arrested Heather instead. Victory is mine!!
Randomize