Note to all middle aged "I totally let myself go after childbirth" frumpy mothers: I do not dress this way for your husbands. Stop looking at me like that. It's not my fault.
I think I'm going to try and hook up with that blond tonight.
I'm going for alcohol poisoning.
I just threw up in the bathroom next to the zebra exhibit. The kids don't know I skipped a beat. Best nanny, ever.
The cab driver thought we were passed out so he called a sexline...
I guess our biggest consolation is that we haven't woken up in a hottub with a dead dude. Yet.
Last time I heard from you, you were double fisting strawberry milk and wine. Answer this text so I know you're still alive. Bonus points for a coherent answer.
Dude, you chugged an entire bottle of tomato sauce and got us free drinks for the night. No way was I gonna stop you.
Please do us both a favor and come rip my clothes off.
Sunday is the day of rest.
As in, whatever liquor is left after last night, you have to drink the rest.
I told her I named my penis "The Spirit of Exploration." That's all it took.
I apologize for being mean. I love the blender and your vagina.
Hooked up with a guy resembling a bearded Cher. I need the lenses on my beer goggles fixed. Pronto.
He offered to take my unemployed self out for drinks, but I really just want him to buy me the Beyoncé album
Xanax and cookies, it's good to be home
I have no idea what happened last night but I sobered up whilst showering with a mop.
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