My sister got her picture in the pub crawl section of the paper today and my dad said to me "why can't you be more like her?"
Drunk. I slept-stripped.
By myself.
I come back into the room and you're grinding with the person in the mascot suit.
Nothing like a 3am firealarm to kick a booty call out...
I have a scary feeling my mom might switch her goals from finding me a husband in 2012 to sending me to rehab
we're like Indians of the 21st century. trading not for food and survival but personal gain and by trouble you mean getting daytime drunk and going to the roller ring then yes.
Like, I just want to be naked rolling around in soft things.
Just cause I'm shitfaced wasted every night waking up in random beds all over Manhattan does not mean I'm a mess.
Truth. Respect the hustle.
Puking on the side of the road and legitimately just got a head nod and thumbs up from an 80 year old man on a Segway... What the fuck?
When have we listened to the rational side of either of us?!
I will read books by day and do guys by night. A mental and physical enlightenment, if you will.
I found my wallet. Still have no idea when I put mad dog in my steel water bottle, though...
He's watching Always Sunny and eating refried beans straight from the can.
When the people downstairs start talking about drugs, I second guess buying my drugs from them. Then I remember they are cheap and convenient.
Whatever douche. I sucked the dick that made you. I. Win.
Randomize
