We walked because you started screaming when you finally realized he wasn't Ben Bailey and it wasn't the Cash Cab.
I woke up wearing just my underwear and a headlamp at a different house than I remember passing out at. I told you irish car bombs are not made with an entire guinness.
Also...you were trying to touch his balls without him noticing
I searched the house and found a small bottle of sherry which is probably as old as I am, has prob gone off and tastes like shit. I don't care any more. It has come to this.
I blacked out at the bar, and blcked in getting a handjob on a roller coaster. Sober me is jealous of drunk me.
I'm over this relationship. I'm just going to get drunk all day, wake up in a puddle of my own vomit again, and go on with my life
Me too. We could do it like prostitutes. No kissing on the mouth.
It felt like Party Santa dropped by and gave us two more 18-packs.
I met her at the quidditch match. She was the snitch and I caught her. After at the bar she walked up grabbed my hand and said snitches have flesh memories.
Like I'm sorry but "it'll be fine trust me" IS NOT VERY REASSURING ASSHAT. Now take off your pants.
A prostitute stole us beer at 3 am
I've just had my first cup of coffee in a month and I moaned at the first drink and honestly I think this is the most sexual expreiance in 6 months
I'm just going to take a nap and hope I wake up more attractive.
Nah, just stick him in a closet with some cheetos, a blunt and soda. The darkness will calm him down until Mallory can be located.
Consume your own penis you ugly freak.
Randomize
