The last thing i remember is saying breakfast beer and carrying the keg to my room and locking the door.
We really need to check into harvesting part of our liver now
You puked in the drive thru of Taco Bell. You puked as it was being handed to me. You managed to yell out "FIRE SAUCE" in between hurls.
WHY are the edges of my bra charred???
Idea for the cake. Joints for candles. Do it.
You gave me your shirt to use as a napkin every time I spilled beer on myself. Before we went to the bar.
BoomCity!!!
You don't have to text me that every time you have sex. I already heard you ring the gong.
Man my junk looks like a mangled grapefruit right now, this shit sucks.
Note to self: don't practice nerdy white girl dance choreography in the company bathrooms no matter how nice the huge mirrors and lighting are.
it's not like I want to die, I just want life to stop for a little bit. how does that work?
i don't know if this is a cannibal joke or a sexual innuendo, and i think that's a beautiful description of our relationship.
I can see their wedding vows now: 'Til basicness do us part
I accidentally brought up how there used to be a big tree in his yard, which I could only have known if I had been Google mapping his house.
I just puked in a chili’s bathroom... happy birthday to me
I broke my dick don't ask me how I need help putting in a catheter so I can piss.
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