Trimmed my pubes and broke your paper shredder. Separate events.
The producers of Marley and Me owe me about $5 million. That's the dollar amount of embarrassment compensation required for making a 24-year-old male cry publicly on an airplane while sitting in the middle seat between a gorgeous babe and a guy with a do-rag
I then asked the hardee's employee: mam, do you mind if i pay 75 cents in cash and then put the 1.13 on my debit card.
Five girls, one freshman pledge. We're like our own Make A Wish Foundation.
He practically bottle-fed me Jameson, like I was a baby chimpanzee on those nature specials.
Boxed wine mondays was one of our finer ideas
I'm functioning at the level of a challenged walrus.
And fyi howling is not an acceptable form of communication.
The bar tenders gave me the number for a "taxi"... It's just a dude with a van. In retrospect, pretty sketchy. Robert was cool though.
"Wine night with the girls" turned into me having to set an alarm in the bathtub this morning...
I imagine it like the scene in Sorceror's Stone, but instead of flying keys, it's flying dicks.
That is a dream.
We can't go out this weekend. My uterus is so desperate it's given me permanent beer goggles
The people at Perkins seem so judgemental. Big deal if i'm handcuffed to stripper in a star-n-stripes bikini. We still gotta eat.
I don't want a big night. But I am okay if we wake up in a penthouse at Crown Casino.
ARE YOU DEAD? TEXT Y FOR YES OR N FOR NO.
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