So im walking through ohare and this guy walks by with a cart full of big bottles of liquor. I want to know what flight hes on.
If this week is any indication of my life here I've got to get out ASAP. My liver can't hack it.
I really don't want to. I just don't know how to nicely say "dude I'm having a rough time in life right now and I just need to dress like a stripper cop, get shit faced, and have dirty crazy sex"
When you passed out on the kitchen counter she brushed and flossed your teeth, then carried/dragged you to bed. Why aren't you married?
It's just good to know that when I drink like a twenty year old I still act like one.
It'll just be like "PENIS HERE". In case you get lost.
I've found my spirit animal. I'm a Snapple bottle. If you take my top off I'll tell you a fact about science.
FYI you are now my emergency contact at plan parenthood
I just had to explain to a 5 year old why I had fuzzy handcuffs hidden in a macaroni box under my bed.
With great liquor, comes great irresponsibility. Remind me of this night tomorrow.
I'm hoping the sedatives kick in before I drunkenly decide to eat this whole cheesecake.
We both fell asleep mid-handjob and he continued to call it "handjob halftime".
I think one make out session at a bar per year is probably the best choice.
One minute we're singing Wagon Wheel, and the next you're belly dancing in a trash bag on the beer pong table
Matt is trying to convince me that we have a deal where if I show him my tits he won't do cocaine. Apparently we shook hands on it?
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