I'm sorry for everything. i woke up with two citations stapled to my shirt.
i found the vodka. it was hiding in the orange juice.
I have a new reason to go to work: I can tell which 3 of my coworkers are sisters just by looking at their butts.
Just because we had intercourse doesn't mean we're friends.
you were almost asleep and mumbling "your penis is on my cheek"
Someone obviously heard us on their way to class. They stopped at my door and started singing afternoon delight.
bro, sorry for: trying to put you on fire yesterday, telling the bouncer that it was you that broke the bottles, and to have slept with your sister.
Remember that time we became friends because I shotgunned a Tall Boy in your bathroom?
Those memories are both hazy and awesome.
Nypd just made jon and hayes chug their forties.
I don't know where I am and I feel like a hippo shat in my mouth. This sofa is comfy though.
I never thought I would have to get vodka suctioned out of my ear
We fucked on shrooms. It's like his dick was a beam of light and when I came I turned into a prism and my orgasms were made of rainbows.
He can only pee with the faucet running. It's like I'm dating a fucking toddler.
What's that? Is there a bottle of Jack calling me? I think so...
Anyway, that's been my evening- crying and looking up diabetes symptoms. How was your night?
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