If I don't come home tonight, I've died in a pile of gay.
And that's when he stuck his finger up his own ass to prove it would feel good...
i decided i am going on the Justin Bobby plan for success. Don't cut my hair for a year, don't shave for a month, land Audrina Patridge. Game on.
he was already passed out before we got there, so i already knew i was going to like him
and he said i stripped him down, hand cuffed him to his bed post, and tickled his arm pits, and then continued to watch The Hangover.
coming out of a blackout being surrounded by Disney police was not as awesome as it sounds.
The only thing that made me get out of bed this morning was knowing that tonight, I don't plan on remembering what happened today
Do not buy whiskey under any circumstances. There should be a UN sanctioned buffer zone between me and Seagrams.
New drinking game. Every time Romney and Santorum switch leads, take a shot.
....this is what your political science major is getting you?
Multi-day drunkenness is to binge drinking as black diamonds are to skiing. They're tough and confusing and you hurt afterwards, but you did it and you probably got an alright story along the way.
It's funny that when I fall down as an adult I'm so much happier no one saw than that I'm not seriously hurt.
He showed up riding a bike blasting the ghostbusters theme song. His name was Lasercat. Im in love.
I literally wonder, frequently, "Will anyone ever fuck me until i go cross eyed for 2 hours again?''
cake and sex. what better combination is there.
I think I was just motorboated by a 4-year old girl.
Randomize
