I am really glad that on the inside of a card from your grandparents you have transcribed the rules for circle of death
I just realized I use Twitter to keep of track of when I get drunk.
Party at my house. Liquor pinata. Your presence is required.
After all you put him through, I think it was only right that you saluted the bartender when you left.
Apparently I confessed my love for him last night. Also, my love for cash4gold commercials.
He said he forgot to take his shoes off, and that he was a bad boy because he was walking on the carpet. Then he sang. Then he shouted "I'M STILL FORGETTING."
I always figured rock bottom would've involved more hookers
I feel like I've wasted too many painkillers on hangovers
Underwear, t-shirt, bottle of Pinot Grigio and Golden Girls. I've hit a new level of homosexual.
As I was brushing his cum out of my hair he looks at me and says "it happens to me all the time."
Totally forgot Mike has only one ball. Is it sad I'm excited to see it? Or shall I say the lack of it?
Nothing says male bonding like watching porn with your grandpa
Going to the ER, I'll explain later but apparently drunk me isn't allergic to peanut butter.
Pretty sure I got pink eye from the strip club. There is also still beer cans rattling around in my shower.
I hope no one at work can tell or smell that I have tequila in my hair and I haven't showered for days
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