It's just you. You wear the fuck me fedora and wear baller shorts, hollywood hippie who thinks she is shakira when she's drunk.
I wish I could rss feed the hooker ads on craigslist because it looks suspicious that I check craigslist every hour.
Call me at 7:30 and make sure I'm not asleep in this booth at Waffle House.
i'd be lying to you if i said i didn't just bring up microsoft excel to make an alcohol budget
the only thing coherent you said from what i saw of you is when you were throwing up, i asked if you were done and you just "uh huh you know what it is"
dude a monday night stripper made you motorboat her. you should get that checked out
He was so drunk he was throwing the bowling balls into other lanes on purpose. He still beat my high score thought.
Just me. You're probably having sex with her right now, so here's a reminder that you should be thinking of me per our agreement.
Also, thank you for letting me cry in your lap on the bathroom floor. I can't remember if I was clothed at that point, but if I wasn't, extra thank you.
I did not appreciate your texts about spanking at 3'o'clock this morning.
why is there a wheelchair in the hall and why does it look like we banged in it?
learning about efficiency and effectiveness in an administration seminar. real world application: walking across the street to the pub on break to shotgun a beer.
fuck school, let's just become the worst strippers ever
The last thing I remember is trying to chug the rest of the everclear, running through a fence, and laying down in the snow. I hurt.
Did I tell you I’m going on a date? His name is Michael and we both like dinosaurs and anal.
Randomize
