i just turned barefoot contessa into a drinking game. everytime she uses a knife butter or salt i drink.
We were so bored at work tonight that we were in dry storage taking turns pouring the boxed wine we use for cooking into each others' mouths. I think I'm starting to understand the "problem" aspect of "drinking problem."
I am going to invent a chocolate mix for sperm.
The size of her hoop earrings are directly related to how much of a slut she is.
Unless you have figured out how to blow me through the phone don't drunk dial me.
Some guy dressed like Santa just handed me a bottle of tequila. I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE CANCUN
ALSO, I NEED TO BORROW A CAT. ASAP
God only knows how I ended up there doing crown royal shots to the titanic and insighting a bar wide shit fest when I asked the dj to play levels
Also I had a dream we made my birth control into a joint. What does that mean?
I lost my flask somewhere between dancing shirtless to The Spice Girls and walking around Wawa opening/eating things and putting them back.
So... crashing at the hot bartender's place is not a solid marital decision.
I remember caressing his hands asking him if he moisturized, then i proceeded to put his hands on my face
And anyway at least being paid in opium makes a cool story
He was the only one not on Xanax so he holds the key to what actually happened last night
Get off the floor, put away the cookie dough, get ur shit together Scott.
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