Sry I called you an 8
grown man stumbling drunk down green street wearing nothing but a hot dog costume and crying. its not even noon yet.
Same here... Well I was planning on having some sort of deep conversation, but looking at how grim of an outlook tomorrow has on you, I'll just re-inform you that I have your pants.
Drunk in a canoe getting pulled by a lawnmower thinking of you
there is an extreme lack of margarita in my mouth.
Dude, it's the frankincense and myrrh soap. Smelling like baby Jesus will get you laid.
I'm mumbling to people and trying not to accidentally shit my pants
This is not a costume party, I'm just wearing fairy wings.
Of course you are.
That was the night, like, my hair caught on fire...
Also CANADIAN LIPS TASTE OF MAPLE SYRUP AND APOLOGIES. SORRY.
I found him in the kitchen singing German metal into a banana while simultaneously mixing brownie batter. He didn't have any pants on.
We go out, we get drunk, we watch Star Wars, we pass out. What's wrong with this tradition?
Something tells me your "Titties for Tracy Morgan" fundraiser won't pan out.
I came twice and when I was done I petted his head and said "you did good kid you did good" and just laid back smiling. Tell me I'm not awesome.
My roommate has a sixth sense about my jerking off and walks in EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
Randomize
