I left the party when things started to get crazy... and when I say crazy I mean: there was puke on the carpet, Evan was passed out behind a plant, Mary was making out with her ex while her present bf was making out with Nancy. Not to mention that someone fisted the wall. Also - someone is sleeping on your lawn - they might be dead, I didn't check. Later.
I smelled like jager and penis. The only cure was a pack of camels and plan b.
It's really awkward to greet the pastor when I know I've licked chocolate syrup off his daughter's chest.
I was amazed that you fell flat on your ass and still managed not to spill them drinks in your hands. Your getting good at this.
She told you broke her computer after the little square in tetris wouldn't rotate for you...
Also, your vagina needs a time out and let your brain have a chance to make decisions.
Your first words after putting out the flames, "how am I supposed to eat girls out with my top lip burned off??"
Yeah no more flaming everclear shots.
I slept with someone shorter than me. My vagina weeps.
You fool.
You came over, called every girl Comrade Heather, and then declared that you were an Eagle, and we were your young.
So all in all, a good night.
Trust me. Drunk Scrabble is not a good idea. Arguments over the legitimacy of the word "Pickle" break out, things are said, friendships are ruined. It's ugly.
I always make inappropriate sexual decisions during the holidays
Remember the time you cried about coconuts
Did you fill my inhaler with tequila?
Yeah, so?
dude the water is back on, you can stop shitting under the tree . . .
Officially hit an ultimate low today. I was so hung-over I threw up on the ground in front of the jousting display in the London tower. But on a positive note, Brits are very understanding when you vomit on their history.
Randomize
