how's this sound. You, me a box of pink franzia and a night full of possibilities in your basemen. I'll be me. You be you. And we'll see where it goes
My life is like a Sweet Valley High book but with lots of alcohol.
Last night was epic. Hooked up with Emma Watson, found twenty bucks, and then passed out on my floor.
No you didn't. You drank unbelievable amounts of 151, passed out in someone else's bathroom, and we carried you back to your floor. Nice dreams though.
about to play the homeward bound drinking game. alone. what are you doing tonight?
Apparently tackling a bar stool and crashing to the floor while yelling for 6 shots of whiskey won't get you thrown out on St Pattys Day.
The problem with having your drunkeness documented at a wedding is not only does it show up all over facebook, but all over professional photography websites.
She told me I should be a condom model.
Nothing like an alcohol-fueled, 6-hour-long hunt for weed--complete with occasional breaks for sex.
He sent me a text from across the party that said "your sexy." I just couldn't.
It's like my uterus needs a hug... and anti depressants
I have need of you to return home with haste, as I require the magical capsules you possess to relieve the posterior pain I am living. I battle this demon with stubborn grit, however I feel that defeat is on the horizon.
Riddle me this: why did I wake up next to a stuffed sword fish?
Psssh like you wouldn't lick BBQ sauce off my nipples.
This is what I get for listening to Christians.
I just got out of a $280 speeding ticket by acting like The Big Lebowski. Seriously Jeff Bridges is the man.
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