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 felt like Norm from Cheers walking into the free clinic.
I think we should see other people.
Already working on it.
Drinking wine. Reading twilight. On a Friday night. Biggest loser contest. First Place.
I managed to convince my mom that my hickey was a birth mark I have always had. She cried for an hour about being a terrible mother for never noticing it.
mimosa in my stainless steel water bottle. going green is not that bad.
my mind is a poorly written porno when i'm drunk.
I mean if she was naked in my room I would talk to her
he's wearing our apron and eating a pb and oreo sandwich. and calling the oreos "topless" since he took their tops off...
Telling me that I would make a great "occasional fuck" was not appreciated.
You yelled "GET TO DA CHOPPA" and burst through her screen door and disappeared into the night. With the goose.
That's cool. At least the punch line of my story isn't I shit in a booth at Denny's.
Actually it's really just going to be me drunk in your living room swinging from a pole on a tuesday morning.
We power houred with shots of red wine. Somehow we ended up with 7 bottles and lost Chris. Trying to find him this hungover is proving very unsuccessful.
He went three whole days without making a star wars reference, of course he got sex
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