Some broad at the bar just asked me how much money I make. I don't know whats worse, the question or the answer.
I hate having morals and standards the next morning.
I just jerked off and used a stopwatch to track my results. Pretty depressing on multiple fronts.
I've grown up since last year. I don't give blow jobs as birthday presents anymore.
Nothing says I've got my life together like buying a jumbo bottle of 7$ wine in sweat pants on a monday night
You were mounting an escalator last night, shouting "I have no health insurance" at people
We eventually had to ration the melon vodka. 10 pushups per shot. THATS why my arms hurt
We spilled a whole bottle of mouth wash and then proceeded to roll around and make out in it. At least I smell minty fresh.
I woke up naked on my couch playing a video game I thought I had dreamed about... oh yeah, and someone cut my hair.
For sure. I'm slow cooking a 6 pound pork shoulder wrapped in bacon. If that doesn't scream "guys I'm going into culinary arts lets get drunk" I'm not sure what does.
Well I woke up naked, with a santa hat on, and a bag of beef jerky next to me. So yeah, I would say it was a pretty successful trolley
He smells like cinnamon, and what I imagine to be orgasms
He left stubble rash on my thighs and cooked me bacon before 9am. I need to lock this down STAT
I also tried to hide a bottle of vodka in a build a bear last night so that something that happened in my life
There are footprints all over my windshield
You said you were making waffles...
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