Apparently last night I sat at the bar with an upside down sharpie lightning bolt on my forehead, yelling "It's Harry Potter's birthday! Let me be on the qudditch team!" And I kept calling the bartender Dobby. There are videos.
i think at one point throughout the night i began eating birthday cake with a q-tip.
I think i just got paid for sex with a hot pocket... and i accepted
I was so high that i was talking shit about a girl I was with via text, and I handed the phone to her so she could type the shit I was trying to say.
They had to restock the bar 3 times before midnight. There is a bridesmaid dress hanging in a tree outside.
I just saw a girl on crutches doing a walk of shame. She is either super dedicated, or her night didn't go as planned.
you know it's gonna be a good 4/20 when you start saving up for it in january.
So, this year for my birthday, want to get rip-roaring schmammered and watch my episode of my super sweet 16? We can do lines off my tiara.
And we're now at 8 people from the office coming to my desk to ask me "do you feel better?".
Can I borrow you for, like, thirty minutes so you can lay on one boob and rub the other until I fall asleep?
Why is my hat full of peanuts?
Don't throw them out, I'm on my way
There was this blissful moment of peace and quiet... then you ran past our window with a lit firecracker in hand going, "SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!"
Fyi, shaking your genitals at me doesn't count as "trying to have sex".
The neighbor just poured gasoline on his 2 brush fires and proceeded to shoot Roman candles at them 🤔
Don’t get me wrong—I love silver and bracelets—but handcuffs are not a good look on me…
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