So guy #2, the dancer, is programmed into my phone under the name H.uy. His number- 11 digits. I should have stopped drinking.
Just tried to chase Captain Morgan with water...this whole drinking alone business is getting harder to do.
So I told her I dislocated my shoulder and she said "well okay. I can either be on top or blow you."
Decisions, decisions.
I really need to stop coming home drunk and lint rolling my rabbit.
She made out with me for a free sandwich. What makes you think she is NOT up to my standards?
My vagina supports interfraternal relations
I made my own utility belt like Batman. It has a cup holder for my beer, cell phone holder, a little pocket for condoms, and a sewing kit just in case.
Maybe there is a secret pocket full of cocaine in that spiderman wallet.
Our motto for the night: BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT.
That's our motto every night.
The owner was showing me around and pointed at one of the bars and said "this is the one you're allowed to dance on. I could tell you wanted to ask." DREAM JOB.
He compared my vagina to his favorite T-shirt. I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not..
I need a costume for that party. Even if I'm just taking it off.
I tired using vodka to remove my makeup
I was having a dream that I was swimming in a pool filled with melted chocolate but woke up to find I had poured chocolate milk all over my body
Officially hit an ultimate low today. I was so hung-over I threw up on the ground in front of the jousting display in the London tower. But on a positive note, Brits are very understanding when you vomit on their history.
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