as we were stuffing their 24 of beer into our bags you kept saying you wanted cheese strings. closest things we found were kraft singles. as the guys came up the stairs you kept screaming 'GET THE CHEESE! GET THE CHEESE!'
so the last visual we have of him for the next 87 weeks is him outside on the ground rolling around yelling I HATE BLOWJOBS
i will replace your cream cheese. there's enough for breakfast. you are my friend. i had guests we wanted bagels so bad im sorry. i left you notes. i love you. you have enough for a bagel or two and i will get you more. you are so pretty.
So I cleaned out my gym bag. Found half a bottle of malibu.
You know, I could pretend I'm shocked but what's the use?
I just pull a splinter from the head of my penis. It was a rough night.
That's not a good night. A good night is waking up with no skirt, no money, and the imprint of the edge of the bar on your forehead.
if I just puked into my own hand, but then cleaned it up quickly, quietly, and calmly, am I still a trainwreck?
last karaoke night = doing dmx songs with a guy who threatened to stab me. so yeah I'm coming out.
Dude, I had to stop mid fuck. Her cat was swatting at my balls as I did her from behind. I couldve lost something.
Using the balance in my bank account I just calculated how many fifths of vodka I can buy this year. Don't let me buy food, all my money is reserved for alcohol
Is it a bad thing that I'm trimming my nose hairs in anticipation for the 8ball to be delivered?
Before he gave me the breathelizer, he told me to "blow like you're blowing your boyfriend". I like him. My tax dollars are well spent
Still, being medically ordered to stuff things in your vagina is amazing.
You don't need yoga. You need a boyfriend! Trust me I've become all sorts of flexible this past year.
Somehow, walking in on your drunk mom in a diaper was the least traumatic thing I saw last night
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