so howd the 'mom i only play with condoms' conversation go?
remember tomorrow: you burned the inside of your nose with incense. it hurt.
You insisted I take photos of you vomiting off the top of the tree.
Going to the hospital for stitches on my balls. Mom walked in on me manscaping with an electric razor. Tell NOBODY.
i'm sick of coming in second next to bourbon.
The gay bar tender told me I looked like Prince William. And that I needed my balls licked.
In 30 minutes I will have been sober for an entire month. Time for a celebratory lap of cheap alcohol that leads to early liver failure.
But happy liver failure. That's what counts.
Btw...I puked in my hand last night and threw it on the floor. Don't let me do tequila ever again.
I keep confusing the name of her and her dog. Both are appropriate.
Where the hell did all of these gingers come from? It's like they crawled out of their shame-caves for st Patrick's day.
It's ok, I like adventure. Just ask my vagina.
the fact that i already established a hook up buddy for thanksgiving break is genius
I did sing regulators with a random black dude at The Rail without looking at the screen, hugged him and walked off stage. I pretty much live up to all expectations.
Hatred of squirrels is the least of my hereditary problems.
As I took my shirt off he commented on how great my boobs where. I responded with "thanks, I grew them myself"
Randomize
