her name was charlotte except you kept calling her chatroulette and yelling at her to show you her boobs
at russian wedding, no open bar. bottles of vodka at table. getting to work tomorrow may be an issue.
Okay, we really need to start training for the St Pattys parade. 48 hours of green beer won't end well if we don't prep ourselves. 2 week bender starts now
you referred to yourself as the crossing guard because of your neon shirt and began directing bar traffic
definitely fulfilled the lesbian status quo and fucked her in the back seat of my prius
His sombrero wouldn't fit in the car and I had to buy him some Jack to make him stop bitching. You owe me
Times like this, when you talk openly about Tinkerbell being your spirit animal, are times when I'm allowed to question your sexuality.
Like I actually don't feel all that great but the fact that I'm not projectile vomiting at work makes life seem so magical
Themes for tonight: men who look like bill Gates but sing smash mouth songs. Women who's names are also food. Haircuts that DO NOT cover bald spots.
Don't tell him that you hope he dies in a boring missionary position with his wife. That doesn't go over well.
Okay, since we're going to be living together and I'm obviously better than you at everything, I have one single simple rule that I want you to follow: DO. NOT. FUCK WITH ME.
Get here now. There’s a guy dressed as Captain Morgan handing out miniature bottles of Captain Morgan.
Woke up this morning with a plate of ravioli in my bed. Who says being single can't be fun?
I don't think you understand I turned down McDonalds for you.
The progression was banging a stripper banging an unemployed stripper banging a sexual entrepreneur quarantining with benefits totally fucking whipped. Get it right dude
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