dude. late night with jimmy fallon isnt even funny. the people in the audience there to see him dont even think hes funny.
kinda like you and your friends.
I have a story that starts with Nutella and ends with sex in the laundry building at RIT.
I feel like this whole "telling that guy i have a kid to avoid him" thing is getting out of hand..
How so?
Probably at the point when i told him i was "Too drunk to drive" and "had to pick up my kid" all in a span of like 2 hours.
Just getting around to doing laundry. Jesus there's a lot of blood on my birthday dress.
I had to go to the front counter of the restaurant and ask for the key because I was "pretty sure my friend is passed out in the bathroom right now"
I no longer question where these bruises come from... between the strip pole in the living room, the slipnslide in the hallway and our constant level of intoxication I will always be bruised...
THERE WAS A HANDPRINT OF BLOOD ON HIS SHOULDER
All I remember was after sex she kept trying to take pictures of my dick "for memories"
New low, passed out while taking a shit for an hour with my parents home, suprised they didnt notice
the mexican frat downstairs started singing this mariachi song, then out of nowhere some dude busts out a trumpet and plays along. is this even real?
I mean like if I stood up my head might pull me down like an anchor
i'm so glad to be in bed i'd like to thank the acadermy
just woke up on the floor with a bottle in my hand. and by bottle, i mean a baby bottle. half filled with tequila.
I gotta do like a month's worth of catch-up personal hygiene today in prep for Christmas so extended family doesn't ask if I'm depressed.
I think/hope James is drunk. He's standing in the front lawn loudly declaring "I AM a popsicle!" Over and over....
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