I missed Saved by the Bell this morning, but Ashley in a later episode of Fresh Prince is keeping the morning wood alive.
Reason #82 that I need to get laid: my pubes are getting split ends.
You asked the dj to play 'who let the dogs out" because it was your birthday. You left the bar and then re-entered to the song
Three of the best words ever! Cocaine. Research. Study.
Also I hooked up with a trainer at my gym. Between her, the married chick, and the bartender, my life is becoming a bad porn plot.
Is all white too much for court to prove my innocents?
While eating post sex burritos I dripped taco bell sauce on my boob. He licked it off and asked why I hadn't thought of that before.
You screamed 'no, YOU put some pants on' at a cop. I pretended not to know you.
Update: I may or may not be in a cult
Update #2: I may or may not be the leader of said cult
So what kind of fun pills do we have for the amusement park tomorrow?
Blowing lines in the bathroom and trying to get into the mindset of someone who wants to be at work for 12 hours
My legacy here is being that tiny blonde girl that threw someone down and shouted "Fuck your face, I'm Dee Dee Ramone."
My hangover headache is somewhere in the Harry Potter scar neighborhood. I can now empathize with that poor bastard.
I'm surronded by jorts. You're probably too drunk to care. I'm gonna cry now. Love you.
Yeah. Of all the things to be cock blocked by a plague is the most unexpected.
Randomize
