So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
just took my exes job. there should be an award for how many times I've managed to fuck that girl's life
he sent me a winky sad face. i cannot deal this level of pathetically needy flirtatiousness.
as soon as his mom opened the door to let me in the house she asked if i would like a shot
it's gonna be a great weekend
slowly transforming into a stationary lump of steel. how can you tell me that was JUST weed
Through drunken recall, I have managed to bring back awful memories of losing my virginity. And possibly traumatized my niece trying to get her to "learn from my mistakes".
It's like my butt was the only innocence I had left and now I don't even have that.
I'm convinced that college is the only place where one can have an existential crisis over what sweatpants to wear
I'm making a date with someone on Playstation Home. That's how my sex life is going right now.
We got banned from that Whataburger for life. WHATABURGER. Which is saying something. They deal with drunk dumbasses every night.
Tequila happens.
Peanut butter and whiskey is not a dinner
i now understand why vodka
*6am blends another margarita* *615am blends straight tequila*
I'll give you a blowjob in a Santa hat if it will put you in the Christmas spirit
Now I know Sunday Funday means fucking till you loose your voice.
Randomize
