Hey theres a creepy ass guy stalking our house.i would look alive geting in 2nite.
i'm stoned. there's a jazz trio playing outside across the street...scared that mike myers will appear & start yelling 'woman...WHOA MAN. WHOOOA MAN.' i'm snapping my fingers.
I wouldn't call it sex. It's like when you put a plug in a socket half way. It's not all the way in but it still turns on the light.
You insisted on squirting shots of captain morgan in your mouth with a turkey baster by like 930.
i'm drinking whiskey out of a ziplock bag in a movie theater. i'm THAT girl.
we need to find an occasion to wear tutus
I'm cheerleading for traffic. people are staring. Why am i the only high person on the way to class?
I used his computer to order the pizza and the only thing he had in his search bar was 'text NASA'
BRILLIANT IDEA: In honor of summer olympics we need to start a synchronized drinking team.
The word cocktail makes me want to rip my liver out and nail it to a cross.
What the fuck happened last night.... I woke up with a bowl half full of ravioli next to my head, reversed on my bed still fully clothed.....
i had to win in rock paper scissors, get called a fat whore, and make two dudes get in a fight so we could call next game on the table and you make zero cups. thanks asshole.
I don't know what she did to me last night, but the scratches on my back indicate that I had sex with a Bengal tiger last night.
He asked the waiter, at 6:40 am, drunk, if they served alcohol. After he said no, he's like 'well, I guess we can eat then.'
Listen, yo... we need to have a serious conversation about this Dollar Store toilet paper. Because if I’m going to finger someone’s ass, it’s not going to be my own.
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