Let's just say there is a bloody hand print above my bed and it's not mine. Literally.
I'm at a bar that has girls so awful looking even you would not have sex with them.
Well... I doubt that.
barbara walters just said penis...
woke up in Sigma Chi. In his room. they are iniating pledges right now. Holy fucking shit mother of pearl.
Update: I just puked into a sock. It was the only thing available at the time. Why I happened to be holding a sock, we may never know.
He just asked me if I'd be interested in couples therapy. Fuck my life.
You came on the chandelier from the first floor.. Of course were allowed back
You're fucking beautiful as shit and we should have loving sex...
You were dancing with a coffee pot of rum in one hand and a joint in the other. So that should explain everything.
If there's one thing I learned yesterday, it's that if I really wanted to I could be mayor of Toronto.
You've got to be fucking kidding me. Do you think "Husband drunkenly pees all over floors" is reasonable grounds for divorce? So pissed off right now.
Now in listening to Jerome Bettis speak at the hall of fame and my boner just started twirling a terrible towel
She says the reason I don't talk to her is because I'm "emotionally lazy" what ever that means
And then I was like pick your blow job song and he choose the sonic the hedgehog theme song. If he's not the one no one is.
Theres a handprint of sauce on my fridge, one on my face, and a trail of it leading to my bedroom, and sauce all in my bed, and I have no idea what the fuck i ate.
Randomize
