Hi Jason, it's Liz. We dont need you to pick us up anymore. I dont care if you will be here in a milisecond. And you should know im wearing really amazing shoes.
I never thought that I'd ever use the phrase "and the resulting ice cream explosion" seriously at work...
I feel as if I owe my bloodstream some tequila.
I tipped the hot bartender my entire wallet. Again.
Just found a peacock feather in my car. Should I be the least bit concerned about this?
I remember three things: you falling down an entire flight of stairs, me stripping out of your Christmas one-sie to do cartwheels in my underwear, and people standing above me saying, "where did that bump on her head come from?"
Also, I was told I kept the antlers on the entire time. I'm deeming last night a success.
I'm just going to say , cocktail races are not for a Wednesday night maybe not even a Friday type of deal
I lull them into a false sense of security with my gayness. Then when they're vulnerable, I strike, like a snake. A big non-gay snake, with huge balls.
Due to certain anatomical proportions it was less like fucking and more like childbirth.
Nothing screams fatass like a pizza that doesn't fit in your car
Please make sure you have solid number of friends around you that wouldn't be afraid to break a bottle and stab someone. If you're planning on drinking all of that, you're going to need a safety net.
So they just told me that while I was being loaded into the ambulance the cop told them if they were good friends they'd post it on Facebook...
The subtweets were good enough
I will forever remember this as The Great Jalepeno Cock Burn of 2014.
He came and farted at the same time. My life is over.
In honor of Randy Savage we're wearing spandex and handing out slim jim's with option to suplex. Get behind it
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