how was last night?
i woke up with my hand stuck in a jam jar with my keys in the bottom and a dog licking peanut butter off my boobs. you tell me.
I'm talking like I woke up and her bra was spinning around caught on my ceiling fan
you yelled "who's job is it to keep me from breaking shit" and then immediately ripped off the molding as you fell down the stairs.
He explained how that handle got into our fridge. I think i'm going to stick with my original assumption that the vodka gods want me to drink more vodka.
Just don't let me fall on anything that can be broken. Unless its a dick
I can't talk to her. I know entirely too much about her genitals to hold a conversation without mentioning them.
I just remembered that I did shots out of a gay mans crotch. And there's someone saved in my phone as "Miranda knows where my car is"
Fuck that. I will get OUT of CONTROL And rise from a hangover on Sunday like Jesus himself.
Why can't people give useful wedding gifts...like sex swings or Nutella?
Let's fuck under the stars. And by under the stars I mean in my bed underneath my glow in the dark star stickers.
I wrote "fuck you meg" on my toaster strudel with the icing. I call it "passive aggressive breakfast"
I'm so hungover I can't taste anything
I think the best course of action at this point is to cut his balls off to get him to stop reproducing
Not sure who they are or where we're going but they just bought me 3 tacos so I'm staying.
I don't know. Seeing the vagina stretched out beyond normal proportions is like watching your favorite superhero die.
Randomize
