So I finally got the Patron washed off my boobs.
He locked about 20 beers in a suitcase and put it in the fridge. For a complete idiot, he's a goddamn genius.
Sober Sundays just aren't working out anymore.
He insisted that I looked like Kiefer Sutherland, told me he didn't know what to do about it, then hugged me awkwardly.
at wine tasting. Can i cleanse my Palate with a frito?
She texted me shhh....im drunk, secret booty call...how could i say no?
I'm a gymnast. they should know better than to let me get dunk near anything i can flip on
What is she getting? Last time we talked her behavior was conducive to getting a tramp stamp on her face.
You know what, don't say anything. You all made fun on me for saying I would fuck him junior year when he taught us algebra and six years later, HERE I AM.
The whorange rubbed off. His white shirt was so gross at the end of the night I told him to frame it.
I'm dipping store brand pepperoni pizza in bacon flavored ranch dressing. Obesity tastes so good.
Even blacked out me knows not to sleep with socks on
I wrote a pretty good eulogy, too. Motherfucker pastor had no sense of comedic timing.
Woke up in a fanny pack with a bag of cocaine on my cheek
Just realized tomorrow is the anniversary of the time Dean and I glued DJ's leg back together with Neosporin and an Ace bandage. I'm bringing red velvet cupcakes to the party to celebrate.
Randomize
