my brain is sober enough to have a conversation.. but my arms feel nice
I feel like I've been hit by a train. I woke up this morning covered in wine, free condoms, and a sign language dictionary.
Crosby and Malkin: Two girls, one cup.
I dont ever wanna see you tell my little brother to "spread the seed" ever again
I swear I have "I love assholes" written on my forehead with ink that only guys can see.
You just kept rubbing her head and repeating "I really like your head, I want your head..." over and over for like 10 minutes straight... And she didnt even stop you.
These headphones make me feel like I'm sitting on John Mayers lap and he's singing just to me. I picture like a pitch black room with a single spotlight on us. Also, convinced Kyle to give me percocet soo.
So to distract myself from jackies vomiting, im making up a story in my head. It's called the little penis that could
I sincerely thought making it to McDonalds by 10:00am was a shoe-in but it appears that I need to adjust my zoom when looking at the map before walking to places.
Only Jon could get an entire commuter train to chant "Ride! Jon! Home!" to get a girl in bed.
I don't remember much, but I remember he called me the dick whisperer, so it must not have been all bad.
I wonder how many people saw me whip my junk out and bang it on the light post in front of holabird bar and liquors last night. I'm about tired of having to do that.
Nobody saw you except the people in the bar, because you weren't outside. You were inside, and you were smacking it on the mens bathroom door handle
I really hate whoever invented fireball.
It will be the shitshow of all shitshows.
Get the fuck in, we're going to Taco Bell.
Grumpy Cat is dead and fuck EVERYTHING.
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