im pretty sure one of the guys i was dancing with at graffiti wrote on my back "you rock". now feel like a danced with a 5 year old.
i think you know its gunna be a bad day when it starts with throwing up into a red plastic cup
i distinctly remember leaping through the apartment to rescue the clam chowder burning in the kitchen
He passes out, I smoke his kush. All's fair in love and a disappointing lack of sex.
there seems to be a considerable amount of hair missing from my left hand. i may have lit it on fire again
how many past hook-ups can i invite to go bar hopping with me for my b-day before it becomes a bad idea?
He dared me to drink a bottle of olive oil in exchange for a 30 pack... So much for loosing the freshman fifteen this year.
My drunken abilities have only improved since college....I can navigate the streets of chicago like no ones business, do push-ups to hail a taxi and instantly become an mma fighter after 3 shots of hennessy
I feel like I got hit by a bus. A head on collision with my vag.
Me too. We could do it like prostitutes. No kissing on the mouth.
We fucked to showtunes. Never going out with a theatre major ever again.
I woke up with a meat pie in my hand and my mouth tasting like an ashtray. I'm a catch, really!
Rob and I are cross faded and the only one taking care of us is a drunk person who's making us dance.
you grabbed the breathalyzer at dinner, blew a 0.20 and told the waitress you'd eat her ass
I wasn't supposed to sleep w him. So of course I sent him gps location to my bed.
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