Tell me I did not drive one hour for whiskey dick.
you threw up in the oven last night. i found that out after i preheated it to cook a pizza.
Your kinda stuck between a rock and his hard dick on this one..
hey you sure the big one didn't have a penis she left the seat up
I started making my dollar bills into rings for the strippers
He told me that "my little fuckpig" was a term of endearment in Britain. I think I'm in love.
He texted me saying that his mom found my nuva ring in their jacuzzi filter. I don't think I'm welcome back anytime soon.
My night ended with Em alternately crying and throwing up in the arms of a guy wearing a cutoff and a tiara. I sat holding a garbage can and wine glass full of water wondering how our night got to this point.
My drunken abilities have only improved since college....I can navigate the streets of chicago like no ones business, do push-ups to hail a taxi and instantly become an mma fighter after 3 shots of hennessy
I don't like sad things. I do like drinking though
You would be so proud at how green we're being. Re-using last night's jello shot containers.. saving the world one step at a time
The fact I have to evaluate my choice between tequila and fruity pebbles is a clear image of my life right now
I don't want any of this. I just want big sausages.
Your poor dick will look at you and scowl for all the abuse he's going to take this week.
Why did I wake up next to the fire pit? And who wrapped me up like a burrito?
Jägerbombs. Thank Sara.
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