I have decided to cut my hair. This is based solely on the fact there is too much of it to clean vomit out every Sunday afternoon.
I was born in the year of the cock... How fitting.
why is my clorox wipe dispenser full of tortillas?
He kept spanking me and talking about biomedical science.
Aw, you fucked a pre-med? you're moving up in the world!
At the bar. Madeline and I totally brought our own pitcher from home because they always run out. Hello alcoholism.
That just sounds like a recipe for sex in my backyard. Yes.
I feel a bullet train of disappointment headed in your direction.
Woke up shivering behind the titty bar, With the worst leg cramps. I'm like a poster boy for responsibility.
He was crying because he hiccuped every time he kissed me. We then crawled to the kitchen because neither of us could stand, and I spoon-fed him peanut butter "to cure his ailment."
The closest thing to a sext that you will ever receive from me is a picture of pepperonis on Greg's asscheeks, clenching.
We got banned from that Whataburger for life. WHATABURGER. Which is saying something. They deal with drunk dumbasses every night.
Tequila happens.
I tried to put my heels in the coat check
I can now say I know getting hit in the face with a flying tortilla is not fun
Then James put his arms through the window and grabbed him, like he was Robocop. A nerdy, portly Robocop.
Who is this?
He gave his liver a pep talk before the vodka chugging started
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