Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
he had a sign stolen from the tennis court hanging above his bed that said, "please limit play to one hour while others are waiting"
You kept asking who was the good cop and who was the bad cop, you said you only wanted to talk to the good one
She called picking up at 2pm a matinee drug deal.
They tried. Someone started to yell beer shower but he spun around and punched them in the mouth before they even finished saying beer. He's a fast little drunk.
Dad and I are shitfaced screaming at Canadians in Walmart. Life is good.
You raged at the rock climbing place for not selling beer and then just said "fuck it" and pulled out a flask.
I may not be his cup of tea, but I bet I'm his 10th shot of tequila
Also, we found a geriatric Snoop Lion.
She didn't complain to the library attendant about us being too loud. She complained after you grabbed her highlighter off the table to stir vodka into your tumbler with.
Suffice to say, I think if people ask about your bruises, and you look them right in the eye, and say "they're from fucking...", people would be like, "respect."
I'm floating on a 30mph cloud right now not giving a fuck
I WOULD NEVER MIX DICK AND MCDONALDS
99% of the contents of my handbag are ketchup packets and condoms. I feel that says a lot about me as a person.
I'm laying in bed cuddling with my teddy bear and eating waffles. I need a fucking boyfriend
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