He's been dead since March and more people write on his wall than mine.
I always have to poop after I paint my nails. It never fails.
I now have an ENTIRE drawer of unused disposable silverware from Boston Market... and you guys said I needed to "buy" kitchen stuff
I found bruises on my neck from barfing out the window.
I think I've reached that age where I should start dating "congrats" and not "are you keeping it?"
you sat in the middle of your kitchen floor feeding your dog blueberries one by one
I kept reassuring him that I was easy like Sunday morning, not easy like "I've had 6 shots of tequila and haven't had sex in three months"
He's a little cute, in a dorky, I-know-for-a-fact-his-cock-is-huge kind of way
She wouldn't put out on the first date. I think my boner put a hole in my mattress.
I told him we could use my stove to make weed brownies, from that point on he kept reffering to me as "best pledge ever"
You were literally hanging out the window and dancing to the remix to Ignition when we drove you home
In fairness you've introduced me to a lot of people I've only met once, for like 5 seconds, while drunk
Observations from Vegas: #1. Strippers pasties pose a choking hazard. #2. Best. Heimlich. Ever.
I had to break up with her. She was sending me study schedules and recipes for vegan lasagna. I’m just trying to survive man
I got some blow and a hand job from one of the strippers. So I guess I'm getting over the divorce.
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