I mean, he's dancing back and forth between pathetically sad and massively fucking creepy.
My cardio has turned into running out of the cold from bar to bar.
Just think, if your stepsister would've gotten knocked up 2 years earlier, she could've had a TV show. What a bitch.
All I know is that if a letter starts with "I'm aware you jerked off in the bathroom last night," I don't want to finish reading it.
i'm pretty sure they aren't charging me for that window i broke with a turkey sandwich while i was hammered.
and then we had to stop you from trying to pour shots through your nose with the neti pot.
I also tried to drunkenly adopt a kitten last night. It didn't pan out.
Don't remember shit. It was only until I saw the glaze on my forearm that I knew you drove to get donuts last night. I also spent 20$ there apparently
I feel like death crawled up inside me and died. That sick
I crawled out his bedroom window, forgetting he lives in a split level and there is a 10 foot drop back there. I had to text him to come help me I twisted my ankle.
When I said to give it to me hard and fast, I didn't mean like 15 seconds fast.
I feel awful. The bartender added me on Facebook and there's chips all over the bathroom floor
I WANT TO JUMP IN TO A VOLCANO
He can't say no, it's my spiritual goddamn quest.
That's why we have robots to masturbate for us
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