My roommate and I had a nyquil contest. The nyquil won.
her vagine was all disorganized.
we drove through mcdonalds and ordered everything on the dollar menu. We told the workers that were making Super Size Me 2, drove away without paying and told them to bill our producer.
He wouldn't let me go down on him. He stopped me and told me he was a giver.
I really need to find a new way to reward you other than head scratches, nutella and blowjobs.
I dont even care how hung over I am, and how shitty this bus ride will be. That was the best sex of my life and it's a beautiful morning.
All I remember is lecturing my dog about how she's a lucky bitch to have a structured eating and shitting schedule.
Ok! I picked up an anti-celebratory bottle of champagne on the way to dinner for her going to rehab. That's how I feel about this...
We found him in the backyard throwing shoes onto the roof yelling "WHO BRINGS CROCS TO A HOUSE PARTY?!"
Rule of thumb; if you ask me if my tits are fake you will not get to touch them.
I keep jumping up and down in front of the mirror naked. The only motivation I would be to stop and put clothes on is if you come over. Hurry.
I just referred to our excessive fireball consumption as a team building exercise and everyone in group text agreed.
We're not alcoholics, we're a god damn team.
Sorry I told all the other bridesmaids you were an asshole. I had had a few drinks and it's how I felt at the time.
How do I explain to work that I woke up in my underwear on a trampoline and that I'm not coming in?
Apparently I was carrying around a bottle of listerine calling it 5 loco
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