i just walked into thanksgiving and three people in a row asked me who i was. really?
dude stop sending me pictures of your dick in weird places. i get it. you rock out with your cock out.
I need to stop sleeping with republicans and cowboys fans.
he fucked my hip out of place.
apparently we spent 30 minutes inside that big Nike store turning all of their Duke gear inside out. for some reason the employees didn't stop us.
I was to the point where my socks were drenched in ranch dressing
I keep telling myself last night was not real, not real, not real. Then I remember I can't move. This hangover is too fucking real.
Why would I send you a picture of it when I could just steal the gnome and put it in your bed with you? Admit it, he looks just like gnomeo!
I'm so hungover I literally am considering drinking from the fishtank to avoid getting out of bed.
I told a 250 pound football player I would catch him if he jumped into my arms. And that is how I broke my wrist
The last thing I remember is singing hotel California with a hobo and asking every bald man I saw if I could touch his head.
I've started budgeting for next year. It looks like I'll be crying tears of dollar bills and handing them over to pay back my unholy college debt.
I need to wash the frat house off of me
I need something that says "I'm gay sometimes but I feel scorned by my straight, non-committal lover, so I'm here to get drunk and make out, and possibly end up in a bathroom with someone who's name I won't remember tomorrow"
The logic in me says "don't text him" .But the vagina in me says "text him".
Randomize
