The producers of Marley and Me owe me about $5 million. That's the dollar amount of embarrassment compensation required for making a 24-year-old male cry publicly on an airplane while sitting in the middle seat between a gorgeous babe and a guy with a do-rag
we did it on the carpet and she just yells out "OH. MY PSORIASIS".
closing bar tabs have helped me with simple math in college.
was it good sex?
i mean it was good for how drunk we were. and for how big the closet was
i gave her a can of corn and told her the cabs are accepting non perishable food items over the holidays. blatant lie and she lives like $40 away
He used his one phone call to tell me not to let anyone drink all his vodka until he could bail himself out.
I want to figure out a way to work "if you suddenly die, I might turn into an extreme hoarders" into my valentines day poem
is it bad that my walk of shame involves the church shuttle?
Within 24 hours, I went to a feminist documentary screening with two state reps and you hate fucked a rent-a-cop on the helipad of your hospital. Somewhere our lives went in different directions.
I still make more money.
I found a briefcase foll of fireworks in my old bedroom...that's an appropriate thing to bring to a wedding, right?
Look man if you're looking for a voice of reason, you're talking to the wrong woman.
I blame everything on you. My broken heart, my fucked up liver and my twisted mind.
so you can go out and drink with me then fuck me, or you can come over when i get home and fuck me, or you can come over before and fuck me, or you can come over before and after and fuck me... so many fucking options
If I ever say "I'm never drinking again" just hand me a bottle of jack. I'll snap out of it.
Crop dusting thru forever 21
The smell of pee and coconut conditioner still makes me think of him
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