FYI... At my funeral, it will be your job to throw yourself dramatically onto my casket.
I only have two new blunt burns this year as opposed to freshman year's 6. This is growing up.
my mom took me to a gay bar and went on and on about all her good times at clubs... i now know where i get it
I brought up my Bobbly Flay drinking game in the interview. Of course I got the job.
I'm almost positive that you shat in a birdhouse
YOU WOULD BE SEEING ME. IN MY KITCHEN. BENDING OVER MY OVEN. MAKING YOU CAKE.
Wait, that's an option?
I started scrolling back in our texts looking for context and a picture of your dick rose like the Great Pumpkin in the middle of my screen.
I see your creepy poodle photo and raise you a shirtless elderly gentleman who looks like a yetti in cutoffs who may or may not have an ENORMOUS erection.
.... touche....
it was just another one of those moments where you unfriendzone a friend you assumed to be gay
I have been drunk every time I've gone to mexico. I do not remember mexico.
My brother really should've known better than to make me go egg hunting with his daughter when I was entirely too drunk to do so. Threw up in a plant in front of her.
I'm a hopeless romantic with the sex drive of a married politician. IM DOOMED.
If I ever say "I'm never drinking again" just hand me a bottle of jack. I'll snap out of it.
she said. She was going to, and I quote, "put her vagina inside my dick".
at the hospital. Kevin drank straight from the river
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