You surviving the open bar?
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I got fingered by sexual harassment panda last night, by a van, I can't remember if he took off his furry panda hands...
you started texting yourself and saying they were "divine messages from heaven" then you threw up on stacie's piano.
Dude, she literally stopped, mid fuck said "I want soup" got off my dick and make top ramen.
Just suggested things for my dad to get my mom for Christmas in terms of "yeah you'll get laid."
I've also decided that the true test of whether or not you should marry a girl is if she will willingly blow you while you eat Oreos.
Between the walk of shame, bar fight, karaoke, injuries, number of bar check-ins, and variety/quantity of alcohols and Advil consumed, I'd say HookerFest 2012 was a raging success.
His lack of social graces and moral fiber complements mine nicely.
I just came inside of a Gatorade bottle. That hungover.
I fucking love your mom. She's so drunk and fully functional. I aspire to be her one day.
Company meeting and there he was. Felt a little weird like 'last night you were telling me how your dick loves me, and now we're listening to a report on sales figures'.
I just turned down the best booty call of my life because I have to make a cheesecake. I guess this is growing up.
At one point, the bartender wrote out the words "please kill me" on some receipt paper and slid it across the bar to me.
Welp. It's confirmed. There is literally no lube on this entire island. Fuck me. More accurately, don't fuck me.
I might be a bit longer... I found a hot guy at the grocery store, so I'm following him and buying stuff that he's buying
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