I found the seven page love letter I had written you. I'm sorry i was so obsessed.
New drink name: the Vermont Douchebag. Take shot of maple syrup, drop into cup of jager, bomb.
Nothing says "You're all grown up now" like setting up your 401k with shitty underwear.
So, does it mean i'm loose if he can't even tell when he fell out?
When I came home you were using a glowstick to eat peanut butter from the jar.
I'm making celebratory pizza rolls. They're a lot like regular pizza rolls, but without the taste of shame.
They are currently going door-to-door asking the neighbors to donate money for Cheez-Its and gift wrap. They asked me to stay back at the house to make another pitcher of margaritas.
He passed out. Woke up long enough to declare himself "the sauce boss" and then bit me in the face.
I think for all the guys in my phone, I'm going to change their pictures to pics of their dicks. It's easier to identify them that way.
Whenever there is a ShotSki involved, I have no excuse but to drink, right? It's like a rule.
That sucks about the drama. But hey, it's always a good day when you see someone get tazed!
I'm really hoping to find some quality strange ass tonight while at my court appearance.
If I wasn't stoned and knee deep in cheese and crackers I'd help.
I tried to celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hannukah, and New Years all in one night.
And tell your penis that we can hang out tonight for sure.
Randomize