I hate when laundry day is determined by the number of cum stains on my bed
I picked my nose. Flicked it. I heard it hit something. Next thing I know, it's floating around in my wine glass.
i woke up today to a handjob from this really fat girl that keeps calling me michael phelps
I didn't sleep with her. I'm boycotting arizona and she's from phoenix.
We all know tonight is going to end like every other night with you. drunk, pantless and confused. Dont try to switch things up.
I'm lonelier than Tom Hanks in Cast Away, right meow. Ready to make this bong my Wilson.
I can't believe that 100lb chick tackled me through a flight of stairs
spotted: something called the tunnel of opression. i feel like if we patricipated we wouldnt even be phased or we could run it better than them
you threw up into the pocket of your shirt. which was pretty damn polite
So I found the perfect "Yeah I gained weight since high school but it went to all the right places" outfit for the reunion this weekend.
I don't know. Something about answering "what did you do on Sunday?" Seems odd when the reply is, painted, went to the grocery store, put a restraint device on my bed.
And then the templeton police were like "oh I remember her, yeah the blue haired girl that we picked up cause she was passed out drunk on the side of the road"
I just sneezed and margarita mix and ash came out of my nose. I love jersey
I don't know what song to play at my bong's funeral!
Just don't let me do two things: Beer bongs filled with vodka or shot competitions
Randomize
