I'm sitting in the drive through at Mcdonalds right now watching the workers pressure wash the vomit I left from last night.
I promise you I could read that dogs mind, he was arguing with the other dog saying he knows how fucked up I am
you kept insisting that i was jake gyllenhaal and you were heath ledger.
If I was there, I'd make you a vicodin spiked sandwich.
I sat on his lap and we shared a beer. I feel like that's an invitation to his dick.
He just told me that he goes squirrel hunting. NO LONGER BANGABLE.
Got a thumbs up from a trucker for doing lines on the interstate. God bless america.
On another note, convinced a 9 year old my hickey was actually a zombie bite.
New low: falling asleep with my face in the toilet only to be awoken when my hand slid down and touched the water. It's moments like these I wish I could forget.
The real reason I can't work: it's Tuesday. I get stoned and watch Buck Rodgers on Tuesday.
Sometimes I have to make sure these messages are going to you and I'm not about to give someone in my phone book a heart attack.
Just to clarify, I'm still tripping balls
On an unrelated note, I've come up with a theory of everything
Found another bruise from Saturday #stopliquor2014
You're acting like you didn't chug fireball, like duh you have bruises you drunk betch
Things he's good at: oral sex and geometry. Things he's not good at: actual sex.
I'm sorry I crashed your motorcycle and watched you get robbed from a rooftop. Will you please come back or at least drop off my shoes?
Randomize
