I was pretty stoned. I thought I needed a seatbelt at the restaurant.
Dude a guy just showed up with alcohol and a bag of double cheese burgers. I think I found my future husband.
The stoners next door have their couch on the sidewalk again, shirtless, soaking their feet in a baby pool and listening to loud ukulele music. I want their life.
I really just want to stuff him in my purse, take him home, feed him pudding or applesauce and brush his hair. That's not creepy, right?
And by "schedule" I meant crumbled up liquor store receipt, that I wrote shit on.
I don't think people appreciate how hard it is to fuck in a portapotty. Sarah and I had train for that shit.
I'm not really sure if I peed the bed last night or if the cat was trying to get back at me for using her litter box last weekend
I want a bottle of whiskey to be dropped at my doorstep like a stork drops babies when they are delivered to their parents.
God what have you done to be that much in need of alcohol.
Me WANTS my preciousssssssssss
I mean I only got hit in the ass with ONE firework
Take home message: SPERM IS EVIL AND SHOULD NEVER EVER EVER BE ALLOWED UP ONE'S NOSE.
Me and my liver are not on speaking terms.
Accidentally typed message to mom that included word "kink." FML. Played it off as autocorrect from "drink" which was somehow more acceptable
You told me I got kicked out of the bar for lipping off to the bouncers... what shocked me the most was that I made it to the bar
I responded with revoking his blow job privileges. Needless to say, he's learned his lesson.
Are you ok? Who pooped in my office?
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