I called the bartender Mr. Intoxication last night. He thought it was funny until i threw up and blamed it on him
You told the bartender you needed 2 beers, and a shot of his cum...
we went to the store to buy cookie dough and conditionally went straight towards the booze
dude, i think we just came across a situation where tits weren't worth it.
You may have noticed the broken smoke detector and melted carpet. We may have accidentally lit a ping pong ball on fire...I'm sorry, but we did our best.
Meeting relatives from another state drenched in tequila and smelling of weed. I'm gonna kill you for soaking the only bra I brought in Jose Cuervo Gold.
He leaned over in the middle of the movie and said "My dick's name is Juan". WHO DOES THAT?
I also just told a guy I was available for counseling in case he needed to 'bang' things out. I've become a monster.
Btw, do you want me to fix this with a box of wine and a chick flick or is this more of a 'lets head to the strip club' problem? I'm just trying to analyze the emotional depth of the situation.
You flew out of the bedroom, stole two Solo cups from the beer pong table, put them on your feet, clicked your heels together three times
THEY AREN'T MARRIED. PUT ON YOUR HOMEWRECKING PANTIES AND GET TO WORK. NO EXCUSES.
All of my exes are either overweight and neckbearded or dead. Someone out there is looking out for me.
I know it sounds all cute and shit that I wanted him to be with me last night, but it's not cute. I just wanted to fuck.
I did cocaine off my boobs last night. Then I wrote two essays and went on a run. Go me
Just remembered sticking my head out the window as i drove us to walmart and yelling that i was a golden retriever.
Also, sorry for verbally assaulting you when you asked if you could dump the bowl.
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