There's a hand-carved wooden bong in my backpack, and i really wish i could remember last night now.
Apparently I mistakenly called the hair club for men at 3am... they called me back this morning.
He chucked my pickle at the bouncer. Fucker, I wanted that.
We're stealing the mannequin. He's my new swimming partner.
Partial kegs from last night are currently in my bathtub, which leads me to 2 questions: 1. What are you doing tonight? 2. Can I use your shower?
I'm microwaving a frozen bottle of Two Buck Chuck while watching The Proposal with my housemate. I'm not sure what success is like, but I'm fairly confident this isn't it.
Vague recollection of me ripping your shirt off at the bar... I hope I asked first, otherwise that's real rude.
I don't care how hot she is, her cat has pissed on me twice.
so getting blacked out last night has made my lips so beautifully red for pictures today... and they say nothing good comes from alcohol
i know it looks like there's pee in the mayo jar in the fridge but i promise it's just apple juice that wouldn't fit in the jug after i added the booze.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU
MANY MANY THINGS AND MOST OF THEM ARE YOUR FUCKING FAULT
When he pulled out it sounded like a balloon deflating
As long as it's more "this is where i see an issue" vs "psst.... tiddies" then i have no argument
My new gym is popular with trophy wives. They’re talking about yachts and plastic surgery
Learn their secrets! I want to meet men with Maseratis. The meat heads and Mustangs scene is getting old
There is no way entering a gas station bathroom memorializing an alien abduction in rural New Hampshire is a good idea.
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