Last night was an abortion. I might need a publicist.
farters have to be the big spoon...
Sorry for talking about super scientific shit so much last night, I know it bugs you sometimes when I don't shut up.
What? You sat on the couch for a solid 2 hours staring at your fingerprints and the only word that came out of your mouth was "how"
i really wish someone from a royal background would fuck me so i could literally say i was 'royally fucked'.
I woke up with a flask of whiskey and a mason jar full of sausage in my tux jacket. south georgia is where i belong
just asked if they'd gift wrap go-go taquitos for you at 7-eleven
I also would have accepted most things ending in "job", erotic favors, and food.
Don't worry, your car is safe with me. I am throwing watermelons out of it at mailboxes and hipster kids.
I think they took out their livers years ago and replaced them with like cheese graters or something. Only explanation.
I drank toilet water last night, I can't answer you because my phone is in rice.
I'm sorry I peed on the bushes at your law firm. Is there anyway you could defend me for the ticket I'm about to get?
I need to learn how to not be a fucking liability
Here's a concept though: eating pasta while getting laid
And then she proceeded to tell us that blowing your brother made her feel like part of the family. At this point you were still pretending to be a cat. Need I give another reason she can't live with us?
I know you can't find me. Somehow I ended up on the roof smoking a cig with the strippers that are on break. Way too drunk to deal with this right now.
Randomize