I love being friends with rich people. I get laid by association.
It was as awful as eating cow testicles on fear factor and not winning and realizing you ate balls for nothing.
The only birthday messages I got from men were from my 8th grade boyfriend and the bouncer at our bar. I think I'm doing something wrong in life.
all i care about is the story behind my toaster ending up in the microwave
I feel like I need to get rid of the black eyeliner, glitter, and tequila breath before I to that world poverty conference..
She's been drinking and was roller blading. I'm sure you can do the math
We got jeff a deep fryer for his bday. So far the count is two potatoes and your iPod.
You couldn't find your shoe so you introduced yourself as Cinderella for the rest of the night.
Ahh that explains the text from creepy mike saying he would be my prince charming.
So this is what you do on your hungover days off put your balls into an egg carton?
I may have to marry her. She is smarter than me and has a six figure job and doesn't want to have kids. All I have to be is a trophy husband.
It is unclear if my flaming esophagus is hangover induced.
Just opened up the freezer to find chocolate penis popsicles. Too hungover for this shit
Discovery: there is a folder in my pictures labeled "Your Name and cats"
Im so glad I make morally wrong decisions. It's like the best worst thing I've ever done.
Somehow my boobs came up in conversation AGAIN last night and I'm still not getting laid...
Randomize
