I saw the video from Saturday. So, how much did I drink for me to think I was a duck and strip my clothes?
This is so fucking sad. Netherlands isn't even a real country.
I woke up at 6 on his trampoline wearing only a parka.
He said to me this morning that we should finish these beers, go and get plan B then on the way back, go to the pub to celebrate the death of our baby. I love Manchester.
I know. I need to get a vagina tranquilizer.
i'll booty call him tonight after the radiohead concert, that way he can see his favorite band and his favorite vagina all in one night.
I've been told that their best stripper is on maternity leave. NEVER AGAIN.
I'm not so good at organized events that don't revolve around whiskey or playgrounds.
By the way anyone who is willing to be in the film while tripping gets free shrooms.
So is the trick to long distance communication to be drunk during phone conversations?
I am on my way right now and I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU EAT MY BURRITO YOU WILL NEVER SEE MY TITS AGAIN
They say find what you're good at... Evidently that's showing up late for everything, drinking, and eating cheese for me.
My potted cactus died. I am literally less nurturing than the desert.
We found him. He just came running out of the closet with a bruise on his face saying he has been fighting elves in Narnia for a year.
He's eating me out right now. That's how bad he is.
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