Whiskey dick.
Yea dude! Love it. Hate it. Have it.
Everyday of my life.
It was like a mary poppins bag, except a sexual mary poppins bag.
we ran out of wine so you tried to make some by throwing grapes and nail polish remover in a blender.
We pinky-swore to never fuck each other again.
You yelled "GET TO DA CHOPPA" and burst through her screen door and disappeared into the night. With the goose.
i just added no after every hockey player in my phone..
It's not quite a landing strip... It's more like a soul patch for my vagina.
be ready to rage tomorrow. like naked ranch dressing rage
My contribution to the dinner party was a bottle of vodka and a bag of uncooked potatoes. I felt like a Russian serf.
When I said 'i love my boyfriend' I didn't mean 'send me a picture of your penis'.
I've discovered the best way to avoid rehab is to not fuck fat chicks when your drunk, therefore delaying regrets and rock bottom
your the Dr. Phil in my life
Today is an unchanging day
I hate it when fuck holes buy me drinks at the bar. You don't know my order. You don't know me. You don't know where I've been. You don't know my life.
Sooo Zach and Judd are on my porch drunk eating leaves and flowers...
If she "comes out" to me I guess I'll high five her. That's pretty much my response to everything these days.
He's just been a dick since he set his face on fire. I just wanted to eat a fucking hot dog.
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