Last night I broke through a door, was hospitialized, arrested, and threw my shoe at a bouncer. This summer is gonna be fuckin sick.
genius alert. I just invented a contraption made of toilet paper and rubber bands that makes it so your balls don't stick to your leg when you wake up from sleeping. I call it, The Balldozer
there's a taquito in the driveway. If it's not yours I'm going to eat it.
No, you can still breathe under the balls.
All I can tell you is you will need a rain slicker for tonight's festivities. Any clothes underneath would be highly frowned upon as well.
How do I tactfully ask if the neighbors downstairs can hear me beating it?
I'm not going to need your "it doesn't mean you're a slut" pep talk after all.
It's taken me 5 years and 2 beers to finally realize that maybe he isn't the dude for me. Also, that picking your major should be done sober, lest you find your self an art major.
Stand up sex. Extremely, extremely difficult. I now know how pointe dancers feel.
High water is the most godliest tasting water in the world.
Yelling back at the people on Jerry springer through the TV, and eventually punching it. Failure of a night.
A "Tom-vomit" is when you puke but cough as it comes up, so you close you mouth as a natural reaction and the vomit is jet-propelled out your noise.
Aside from the possibility of pregnancy, I'm going to call last night a raging success.
You gave me a bottle of tequila and introduced me to a ginger named cowboy. I actually love you.
The Olympian is in my bed
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