I feel like a bad episode of csi trying to figure everyone's DNA that's in me
You did not just play the dead husband card again.
I woke up in the penthouse and did lines off the to of the fireplace. This is not real.
Sorry I had passed out by this time I think, with the chicken fingers ON my face in my bed, with all the lights on, and ketchup all over.
It was one of those "since we're naked anyway" type situations
I was talking to some girls while you were falling off your bar stool into the person next to you.
Hey do you want me to wrap up that Jack in the Box you left in my gutter
I vaguely remember you trying to make me a casserole with marshmallows and a can of beer.
I feel like I've been hit by a truck, flew up and landed on a fence post that went straight through my vagina. No more vodka and sex for a while.
I enjoy the level of friendship we have achieved until you ask me to determine what may or may not be gentile warts via iphone pic
I can still taste the Jäger. I'm gonna shoot myself.
So it's official the pockets of my work apron exist solely for the purpose of secretly flipping off asshole customers and not losing my job.
I'm kinda glad you won't be in Vegas tomorrow because you'd make us go streaking or throw dead animals at them.
Well I'm half drunk in a green tutu at a chipotle. So pretty good parade.
I think I’ve been affected by his dad mustache. I wanna ride it.
Randomize
