Stuck behind a lady in her 70's purchasing a plastic handle of vodka and nothing else. She is writing a check. Hello future.
New plan: we get a little bit drunk and go to 24 hour fitness and be eachothers wing people so we can hit on in shape hot people at a gym instead of drunk idiots at a bar.
You suck. You're fired. I need to find a less reasonable voice-of-reason.
Well, at first I was really confused. But then I realized that he was talking from his penis's perspective... in third person.
It's one of the many facets of my drunken alter egos. I'm like substance abuse batman.
I mean, I know going to rehab probably didn't make her a lesbian, but I can always hope
I just found a hunk of ham in my back jeans pocket from god knows when. We gotta stop going so ham.
I think her version of saying goodnight was being flung over a guys shoulder as he said, "Bitch. You don't need no shoes."
Watch the news tonight. They interviewed me about a fire. I was high as balls so it should be entertaining.
To my ex and my favorite mistake: I totally enjoyed hearing you have erectile disfunction via baby monitor!
some how during sex we caught an ENTIRE pillow on fire. A WHOLE PILLOW.
Also, don't forget your plan to die young at a shrooms-fueled orgy.
Remind me to tell you the story of the fuzzy condom
you are the root of all my greats nights and my worsts decisions
half way down the stairs my legs said fuck this and i just fell the rest of the way...
Randomize