Hurry. And bring back up. SHE WON'T STOP TALKING.
Just toasted a glass of brandy with my own reflection to my dimples. Why are you not here?
You did not just play the dead husband card again.
If one more "stranger" walks up to me at the bar and asks how I have been, I am going to rehab.
Theres been so much buildup for our genitals to meet, one or both of us is sure to be disappointed.
He only dropped the Russian accent after we started having sex.
Wow. A quad shot of peppermint schnapps. I feel like I just deep throated a candy cane. Best 21st ever.
I ended up in a bathroom giving my hymen a pep talk
multitasking: i'm now sitting up and smoking my joint.
Drunk me obviously wants to fuck up my life
It's like I have an arch nemesis, and it's me
Build a thousand brigdes, lick one butthole. What am I remembered for? Buttholelicking.
The last thing I remember about last night was guzzling white zinfandel out of the box and eating cheese. And I was thinking OH YOU FANCY HUHHH
Driving from bar to bar trying to recover all of the possessions I've drunkenly lost over the course of the past few nights. Actual nadir of my life and absolute height of shamblyness.
Props for using the word nadir
The bump on my forehead, i think, was from falling asleep at front door, on my knees, slumped over. But we played good music so what?
How’s big weiner McGee?
I’m going to ask you one last time to call him Matt and he’s fine thank you very much
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