Text. Mid BJ. 8 points.
Just printed out my Plan B coupon at the library. Saving my own printer ink and paper as well as 10 dollars towards not being knocked up.
So apparently I ran down the hall to another party and started handing out uncooked spaghetti to strangers. You'd be surprised how many drunk people will eat raw noodles.
You do realize I got a panda tattooed on my ass just to get you laid, right?
What shirt can I wear out that says 'I may have a broken arm, but it's not the one I give handjobs with'?
Apparently my downstairs neighbors don't much appreciate it when I do drunk aerobics at 3am on a Wednesday...
I feel like passing out with my foot on your face has bonded us at a very fundamental level.
I literally walked into the toilet, looked at my reflection, said "alcohol" and went back to bed...
You shouldn't have to. I think you should bust into work like "pay homage to my magical vagina!"
My hungover walk of shame was interrupted by a stranger on a balcony throwing me a beer to shotgun... at 10 a.m....
Is there some sort of line being crossed when your shower activities start to involve jimmy johns?
And if you put this on Facebook, I will drop live cockroaches in your mouth while you sleep and then smother you with a pillow.
You always say the most romantic things
I wrote an entire paper in under an hour about The Nightmare Before Christmas. I was also high as shit and pretty sure I dedicated half the page to the animation but still.
I will go to bed dreaming of sexy Olympians carting me on a throne to the beach where they feed me pizza and champaign and massage my head/wash it like the hair dresser does.
How I know I would be an awful mother....I just stirred the bong up with a baby fork. A literal baby fork....
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