So I came home baked last night and made about 60% of my jeans into jorts...
btw i have an angry voicemail of you yelling at me to get you a sandwich or die.
No amount of marijuana is enough to justify blood on my ceiling
Nothing says walk of shame better than a onesie and a 12 pack of corona..
I HAVE MY OWN TITS FOR THAT AND I CAN GUARANTEE THAT THEYRE MORE GLORIOUS
There was a bottle of vodka and chips in a vase next to the bed
We are going to get clementines. And shoot them out of a ballon launcher. That's after we come up to the ivy with a bullhorn and reck havoc. Where are you.
He broke into my house just to tell me the door was locked.
I was trying to fart in my sleep in the hopes that he would leave
Ah well. Drinking wouldn't be drinking without mystery bruises
Agreed.
I might as well walk around wearing a sandwich board and accept the fact that I'm dying single.
Fun. You missed it. Michael broke a door with his erection.
You told me you were going to invite all of your Tinder matches to the same bar on the same night and make them compete for your affection in a series of Lust Olympics. Winner gets laid.
You asked me if I ever met a talking rock and when I said no, you looked me dead in the eye and said today was my lucky day then you crawled into a ball and started talking...that high.
You know the story of the boner party, right? They got stuck in the mountains and ate each other?
It was the Donner party... boner party was the porn version...
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