What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
She's the only person who can pull off turning an outdoor patio heater tower into a stripper pole.
It was one of those you-have-no-other-way-home-and-we-already-made-out-so-I-guess-youre-coming-home-with-me-if-you-promise-to-leave-early kind of deals.
I have a 16 minute video of you talking about your life. We are calling it your Anthology sponsored by Steel Reserve
It makes me really sad that some people start their saturdays running or biking instead of with 3 shots of tequila, a sausage biscuit, freaks & geeks and 2 orgasms.
Sangria Sundays can't keep happening. Even my second grade students know I'm hungover. Benji even gave me his oreos its that bad
It's like everything I need in life within a five block radius: booze, toilets, dogs, dicks.
We just banged and he's microwaving shrimp noodles and I'm eating tostitos alone in the dark this is why our relationship works
We literally solved our fight using cat pictures on Instagram. True love.
My tits became the mascot for the SAE house last night.
She said I'm like warm bathroom-sink water. There's nothing necessarily wrong with me, but she doesn't exactly want to "drink me in"
Nothing like putting a Percocet up your nose because you spent your night drinking heavily and can't drink water to make you heavily reconsider your life choices
He fucked me so well and hard that the couch slid into the Christmas tree. I had to pull branches out of my hair.
You can now call me Rabbi, and I can now perform weddings, funerals, and other services in all fifty states. You're welcome, world.
We still on for Manwhore Monday?
Randomize
