lesson #67 learned in college: a three day old margarita, is still a margarita.
you opened the fridge, pissed on the food, fell over, then threw up on yourself. thats whats all over the kitchen.
On your way out, lock the front door. And by lock the front door, I mean find the door handle, reattach it, and then lock it.
and then they started calling me 'Shitshow Shandra', which apparently i took as a compliment.
at least the cop wrote "happy birthday" on the ticket.
we were bear claw grabbing his crotch in the middle of the bar yelling prominent ridge over and over.
He's just a really nice guy who stuck his tongue in the wrong place.
and I believe it was when I was running to class to take a test still drunk in my Halloween costume that I realized I have reached that point in the semester where I just don't give a flying fuck anymore.
Did you pour a hundred fucking pounds of sand in my car last night?
lol... you weighed it?
All you need to know is that isn't jizz
What is this nonsense on the table
Your idea.
I mean the hole taco that was chewed up and spit out
shotgunning beer in rite aid bathroom. hurry
also, am i correct in guessing that advertising the size of my hypothetical penis is a turnoff to him?
Idk if you own a vibrator or anything but it's not smart to leave it in dad's car for him to find :/
We're both fucking guys named Frank. Our friendship was meant to be.
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