I don't do stupid things anymore. I do stupid people.
he invited me to an all week drinking party at his house. apparently he knows the key to my heart is booze shaped.
i'm pretty sure the devil's penis is california-shaped
I think I would be able to remember how to smoke but I can't seem to remember how to breathe.
You've slept with me you know how lazy I am in bed.
He's cheating on his wife, and he's judging me for eating McDonalds
Whatever. I'm just trying to get my dick sucked while taking online harmonica lessons
I drink to make the karaoke go away.
His lack of social graces and moral fiber complements mine nicely.
The Winnie the Pooh costume was great until you got drunk and started yelling at the kids asking for pictures.
Dropping acid was like seeing the whole world as a blank canvas to imagine anything I wanted.
And apparently all you wanted was to watch the sun explode and me take 60,000 dicks to the face.
I woke up with my wool blanket soaking wet on the dorm room floor, and my sweatshirt hanging on the shower door down the hall. So basically my camp-out-in-the-bathroom idea didn't turn out as planned
Today is get drunk without showing anyone my penis day
When I went to pick up Adam from the train station, I found him passed out, covered in gold paint and wrapped in a red blanket. someone had glued a gaudy green rhinestone to his forehead. He looked homeless.
Actually I really wish that I was drinking so I could ask him for breakup sex and then later blame it on my alcoholic tendencies. Maybe tomorrow instead.
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