I'm calling you out on twitter if you don't come over right now.
woke up with ski boots on and a kayak in my room... birthday successful? i'd say so
I couldn't walk, so he carried me all the way home; and then I told him that I wasn't drunk enough to fuck him. Poor kid.
Yeah, he said he was getting "welcome back Winnipeg Jets drunk" then puked on his jersey.
I tried to explain to the cop how we all have skeletons in our closets but he just wouldn't listen.
Every time I think about it I can feel His toe in my mouth and I gag, I'm scarred for life.
I would come over if there was not the impending fear of me shitting out my brains.
I had one glass of wine then passed out for 4 hours. It's like I'm having a quarter-life crisis.
I just wanted to be nice to your dick and you are rhyming at me.
Every time I started to really hate the guys on tinder, the universe throws me a muscly beardy bone.
I'm pretty sure the Bible says "He who is most sober may cast the first stone."
she just kept pointing at the cows and calling them field penguins
So anyways, we returned the toilet paper and decided to use the money for taco bell and slurpees instead...
You know you've hit a new slutty low when you're simultaneously sexting and having a tea party with a 4 year old
I kept yelling "BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY FUCKING BLINDERS" in a terrible brummie accent at everyone I saw wearing a flatcap.
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