Im telling you now. Hang out with winning football players and you get whatever the hell you want. Sorry to wake you. But its important knowledge.
My therapist told me it was ok for me to "take risks" now. Cue the hookers and blow.
It's my coworker's last day party and I'm the one who ended up shitfaced on the train with half a bottle of belvedere in my bag.
No, trust me. Falling down the stairs is a fucking sobering experience.
My chest hair is, as we speak, arching upward to embrace my neck beard. The union will be a storied one.
So... crashing at the hot bartender's place is not a solid marital decision.
Say what you will, but only I can throw up on someone's door and make it look like art.
That's the last time I'm letting you drink that apple vodka
Apparently I'm a "fire hazard"
Positive reinforcement! I'm training him for being a good boy and coming over. He gets sex and cookies.
We literally solved our fight using cat pictures on Instagram. True love.
I told him I'd ride his broomstick if he let me call him Harry Potter and drew a lightning bolt on his forehead.
I'm pretty sure that's why we have such good sex because we are secretly trying to kill each other
I swear, I make more use of my creative writing major with sexting than I do with anything else
I called him the wrong name all night, yet I still got a ride home from the party and hooked up with the guy. I'm irresistible.
I'm gonna write a book entitled "when you give a cop a cookie..."
I don't even want to know.
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