I just shot gunned a beer for your birthday alone because you're too hungover at midnight to get out of bed. I'm not sure which of us is the bigger loser
I'm still trying to decide if it's a complement when he said "I'd like to subscribe to your daddy issues".
the theme of the baby shower is Nightmare On Prego Street
I just need to actually convince myself that drunkenly having sex won't help me forget the last time I drunkenly had sex, it only makes the situation worse.
You were hugging the toilet and shouting "don't let fatty eat me" through the closed door.
Time to do stuff I know I'll have to hide from my grandkids one day and everyone at next weekends wedding.
Giving my coworkers lap dances cuz it was my turn to decide our team bonding exercise. Go happy hour!
So then I proceeded to the kitchen to make my "specialty," which consisted of a frozen veggie burger topped with peanut butter. I guess he ate it too.
He is peeing inside and sticking up for himself. Those are two of the four signs of the apocalypse.
I can't even express how horny I am. The English language isn't equipped for what I'm plotting.
Jerry got outside again, i found him making dirt angels in the garden. I need to put a bell on that bastard.
I am at a new level of appreciation for drunk-you, who threw up into her own sweatshirt pocket last night in the car. Brava.
I'm wearing sunglasses around my house. Douchebag status. The hangover is real.
I take Paypal, cash, sexual favors, and roasted red potatoes with garlic as payment. You choose.
my underwear is inside out , I have a giant hickie. I'm wearing last nights makeup. this is going to be the best day at work ever
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