so i slept on a park bench last night...no hobo
just saw bouncers outside a coffee shop. beginning to question humanity.
i think i gave myself a perma-hangover. or god just hates me.
She has an album entitled "my photography", which consists of about 80 different pictures of a tractor that she took on her cell phone. I'm all for freedom of expression, but come on.
stop texting me from phones in the verizon store and pretending to be guys i talked to when i was drunk. its confusing.
why is pumping your own stomach in your searches on youtube?
I really don't understand how I cannot figure out how to work a fucking can opener when I'm hungover. Yet I still retained the ability to take a perfectly symmetrical picture of my erect penis and send it to every person in Matt's contacts the night before.
you spent the night getting lap dances from a stripper with a c-section scar then ended up at a one room casino by the airport and you say you're too good to blaze and see pirahna 3d? bullshit
And there I was, sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, my fingers covered in peanut butter.
So somebody asked her is she's okay.She turned around,started running and screamed "Ballet is running through my veins" before doing a small pirouette.It's amazing how she managed not to fall.
People dont know what to do when a naked fat guy is running towards them. they panic
I heard you coughing. Are you choking or smoking? And are you okay?
it's not that I hate people, I just want to rip most of their faces off.
We had sex to beyonce's "drunk in love" and then he order me pizza. It was perf
I'm fucking blazing boy. 5hr weed sauce kicked in and my entire face feels like an 8ball of gold bond flying down a mountain of Fresh powder. Just gliding.
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