I woke up this morning and thought "Im sure I've seen this house in a porno" and instantly googlemapped myself
What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
Ate lunch. Still drunk. Keep forgetting I'm in Texas but then I look around at the people and remember.
He's a waiter, looks 15, and told me he loved me after only talking to me for 30 minutes. I told him I wanted a margarita. We got 3 free pitchers. I may have to make this our regular Wednesday night hangout.
I'm lonelier than Tom Hanks in Cast Away, right meow. Ready to make this bong my Wilson.
I made a blanket fort and am drinking Gatorade and eating donuts watching 500 days of summer. I can't keep spending my saturdays like this.
I have cobwebs on my vagina for halloween. And bats fly out when I open my legs.
New Halloween costume idea: Frankenstorm. We have three hours. Make it work.
There two guys dressed as FEMA workers with jump-suits that say "Post-Disaster Breast Examination Division"
Oh fuck. There is like a human shit on the sidewalk. I hate this place.
HIS NAME IN MY PHONE IS JOSHUA DREAMCHASER I CAN NOT
NO SHAME NOVEMBER
I'm going to get old and fat one day... probably pretty soon and I'm not going to have any pictures to show to my cats of what I once looked like.
I'm proud of all of us. Somehow we all survived another Jägerbomb Tuesday
This hangover is what we deserve after that level of debauchery.
The cure for a hangover evidently is not walking around in a costume in the sun towards of park of screaming children
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