He ripped my extensions out during sex, not noticing until this morning when he saw them on the floor. I told him they werent mine and he went and threw them in his sister's room.
I really don't understand how I cannot figure out how to work a fucking can opener when I'm hungover. Yet I still retained the ability to take a perfectly symmetrical picture of my erect penis and send it to every person in Matt's contacts the night before.
at russian wedding, no open bar. bottles of vodka at table. getting to work tomorrow may be an issue.
As he was under the stripper backwards, he yelled "we should totally be facebook friends"
I forgot my id and a man called soup is buying me vodka.
She is ok w me having sex for money. Just gotta find rich grandmas.
I am currently explaining what double penetration is to the bridesmaid I hooked up with at my cousin's wedding. This is my life.
He goes "hi, free today?" WHEN AM I EVER FREE ON A SATURDAY, I GOT HUNGOVER TO BE AND DRUNK TO GET.
I think I'm crying more because after all these years he never learned to spell you or use a comma properly from me
he'll always be the guy that i fucked on the bathroom floor
Ok, maybe playing "whose family is most dysfunctional" wasn't the best drunk idea we've had. Todd''s been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can't get him out...
Remember how I have such good luck that it's almost bullshit?
I'm afraid to ask, but go on.
Sometimes, being an adult means buying a bottle of whiskey after work and live tweeting the commercial breaks on food network.
I haven't felt more like a college student than when I woke up this morning naked with my sociology textbook in front of me and my bong in my left hand.
Is it sad that the most attractive guy I've come across in a week that's not my professor is the man doing my pedicure?
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