I really don't understand how I cannot figure out how to work a fucking can opener when I'm hungover. Yet I still retained the ability to take a perfectly symmetrical picture of my erect penis and send it to every person in Matt's contacts the night before.
Just seeing my phone say "picture message from: Senor Floppy Cock", i knew it was going to make me smile.
No. I remember how loud you used to get. Trust me.
You told me you loved me after I brushed your teeth with my index finger.
Only you would have to block the fucking governor of Tennessee from reading your tweets
It's been two days. I am still burping up jello. Everything tastes like jello. Everything smells like jello. I am DONE with jello shots.
My kids are NEVER playing in the park more than 2 feet away from me until they are capable of punching an eagle.
I'll be in SoCal at my bachelorette party, aka embracing a fireman covered in KY and chocolate shavings.
I was going through my settings and the phone randomly started playing "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Dwight Yoakum. Out loud. At full volume. I was shitting. There were 3 other people in the bathroom. I love iOS 7.
you smell like cheap hookers & chicken nuggets.
Literally sitting on my bed in the dark trying not to throw up
Will you skip merrily into hell with me?
My sack is cleanly shaven and the rest of my body has been manscaped. i even put aftershave on my junk. i feel sleek like a fighter jet right now.
passed out on bart again and decide to bike home. biked thru a goat farm of angry goats, biked on the freeway, got stopped by the cops, and sat shotgun in the squad car while the officer driving got a video on his iphone of his partner riding my bike on the freeway.
Howd last night go?
well he stumbled in my parents door drunk and then asked my mom if she was my grandma. Id say as far as first impressions go, he failed miserably
Randomize