Any time you start making pro wrestling references before 10 PM I know that I'm breaking up a fight between you and some muscled up frat boy you call Hogan.
Last night drunk me texted a sure to be hungover me my class schedule and locations for today. I'm like a mom preparing her child for the first day of school
His shopping cart was nothing but malt liquor and zucchini.
Whatever. It was high school. Back then I'd blow anyone who had enough room between their chest and their steering wheel for my head to fit.
well, the drug dealer I've been fucking the past 5 months gave me a chilis gift card for Christmas, so things are looking up.
You climbed into the Suite next to us at the game so you could steal the half eaten hot dog someone had left on the table. That high.
At this point the smell of shame has become my natural musk
You rubbed your penis on my leg and said "people have paid for this kind of action"
You kept trying to make people drink "salsa-ritas." But all you did was dump tequila in a half full jar of salsa, and shove it in people's faces while shouting at them.
Just set out 2 water bottles as an offering to my hungover self.
If you walk into a place and someone says "happy birthday" while handing you a shot. You. Take. It.
I'm still hammered too. I started tweeting the time at one point I'm pretty sure.
After walking ten blocks barefoot in Boston I've concluded drunk me needs to make better decisions.
I hit an all time low we ran out of coke and I met up with my dealer at 8 in the morning for a re-up. great customer service though.
Mom just walked in on a bj. IT'S WHATEVER.
Randomize
