Memo to the bitch sitting across from me at Swamp: no one thinks you're classy with your Louis Vuitton and your Burberry scarf when you're dragging on that cig like it was the last cock on earth and you needed cum for sustenance.
Harry Potter. Singing. Sobering up. In that order.
My shirt is ruined. If I ever get the idea of doing a tequila shot through my nose ever again, shoot me.
Either there is a god and he hates masturbation, or one of my roommates stole my vibrator while I was in the shower.
And then. You beer bonged 3 tall boys. In a row. Fell into some kids lap. And pulled down my shirt trying to get up. Thank you for that. I got laid
Oh and I guess I added our cab driver on Facebook. He has "liked" every single one of my beach pictures. Kill me now.
I'm sorry and I love you. One day we're going to live in a whore mansion with our babies and make boys cry.
He tells me he loves me and I say I just want him for sex, then he looks at me like I just said I hate puppies. What kind of guy is he?
Time is so short and I miss you. (I just watched that commercial where the people all laugh and get older and die.)
as he was fingering me, all I was thinking about was how lucky his girlfriend is...
You in for a dick vacation?
YES, even though I have no idea what that means
Serio, who the fuck falls down coming offstage wearing nothing but pasties, a g-string, and a fake moustache, and now suddenly needs a tetanus shot. Me. That's who.
Seriously, why do I have a mortar round?
Sitting across the table from one of my high school teachers who hasn't seen me since I was about 16 drinking a beer wearing a leotard
I'm one bad relationship away from owning seven cats.
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