I woke up this morning with "guy in polar bear j.crew boxers" written on my stomach along with a 5 digit phone number...
you spent the like half the night trying to figure out the puzzles on the back of the captn crunch box
You were spitting chewed up pretzle into my hands telling me to hold it for you.
My brother just woke up to see me on te couch dipping hamburger buns into pizza sauce. I'm beginning to question the life choices that led to this moment.
PS August 29 of last year was when you ran over my foot. Facebook just reminded me.
My living room is scattered with glow sticks wrappers, sparklers, face paint & beer cans?
It's not as cool looking when the drugs wear off, is it?
No cash. I had to buy four bowls of soup to meet the credit card limit. I'm not even upset. SO MUCH SOUP.
I just came inside of a Gatorade bottle. That hungover.
She looks well worn, presumably from a cavalcade of penis.
Did you put candle wax on my balls last night?
Today was brought to you by the letter B for beer and bourbon and the number fuck you I'm meant to be studying not hungover
I'm sobbing to NWA
I ask for a dick pic and he sends a picture of Dick Cheney. Who does that?
I should know better than to open your texts at the grocery store
Costco cheesecake and whisky. A night made in heaven
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