It's only 4 pm and I'm already way past my preferred quota of "could have died" moments
2pm: Breaking news alert: I think I'm finally sober. Oh, and that place needs hotter strippers.
You are the worst substitute drug dealer ever
Fine then. I'll just do all this coke on my own this weekend and die. It'll be strictly your fault.
No. My vagina is not the scapegoat for your poor decisions.
So to distract myself from jackies vomiting, im making up a story in my head. It's called the little penis that could
I got eye-fucked by an 80 year old man wearing a cowboy hat while I was singing country. How do you think karaoke went?
I DO NOT KNOW WHO SHE IS, WE HAVE NO MORE FRUIT, SHE CAN'T STAY HERE.
I went home with a guy last night because he showed me some magic tricks and kept shouting "THEY'RE ILLUSIONS MICHAEL!"
I'll be in SoCal at my bachelorette party, aka embracing a fireman covered in KY and chocolate shavings.
I know. In fairness he did tell me to throw up out his window onto his roof so I don't think he's pissed at me but I'm still mortified by the whole situation.
Not gonna lie, Wednesday was the perfect day to get laid off, all I've done since is watch the Simpsons marathon
I don't want to just break his heart, I want to dip it in liquid nitrogen and then smash it until it's powder and snort the powder
I'm gonna tell the medical examiner that your cause of death was over-arousal.
Vodka for breakfast. With a side of Frankenberries. Don't judge me.
Randomize
