My brother and I both agreed that your boobs are fake.
when I picked him up he smelled like cheeseburgers, had a bite mark around his left nipple and we think someone stabbed him in the forehead with a pencil... it was like the Hangover meets Texas Chainsaw Massacre
i can barely draw a stick figure let alone shave a heart into my pubes
Today might be the day that I legitimately throw up in my saxophone.
drunk doesnt even begin to explain it. he said he was going to get playing cards from the lobby and came back 20 minutes later with a full set of sheets.
I'm over this relationship. I'm just going to get drunk all day, wake up in a puddle of my own vomit again, and go on with my life
I really want to lead this Amish guy into temptation
Its official vodka lemonade jager and whiskey with coorslight is a bad combination of try to forget the work week cocktail ps bring alkaseltzer
Apparently my Ambien addled brain last night actually did decide to go ahead and photoshop you into various animal and human molesting scenarios. That's a hell of a thing to wake up to.
He yelled "HOO-ah!" like Al Pacino when he pulled down his pants. Trust me, he has every right to.
Their children would look like the Michelin man and smell like chef Boyardee
It's settled. One of us is going to bang her brother. The world demands justice and he's hot. We'll be the justice league if it were made of alcoholic whores
So is the trick to long distance communication to be drunk during phone conversations?
Since when is my clitoris pierced?
Throwing up in a storm drain... Not my finest moment.
But my shoes looked boss
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