I just tipped a bartender in xanax.
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.
when your friendship is based on dead babies and vodka there is a delicate balance. lesson learned. for what its worth, you are still my number one.
Wouldn't pinatas filled with coke be awesome idea for cinco de mayo?
Screw this I'm going to go talk to her. If you hear sirens they're for me.
then he asked me if i wanted to "handle his wingman"
I am assuming I was his dirty Mardi Gras mistake and I can live with that
Hindsight is 20/20. Or a bladder infection.
i think they forgot i was still in the room... she grabbed his balls and said "i feel a fire coming on".
And on the seventh day, God carefully sculpted your cock to fit perfectly into my masterpiece of a vagina. Then he rested. Look it up.
She screams like she's just fallen out of a helicopter when she cums.
Day #3 of being the only sober person at the bar. This is depression.
Just woke up next to a girl with 30 hot dogs in my bed. Vodka you win again.
wearing the bible to the ABC party, thought you'd appreciate that.
My six-margarita-deep ass just used a blow torch to light the match that lit my bong pack. Peak single 🤦ðŸ¼â€â™€ï¸
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