For a whole 2 minutes you were convinced you were talking to my voicemail
i was concerned for your health after you took your "last shot" four times...
We hung out in the bathroom the whole time and talked about sex and watched some girl pee. If you don't believe I was there, check the bathtub for bread crust.
You took a bar mat shot.
I have sand in every orifice, there are bruises everywhere, and I smell like a distillery. I love summer.
I apparently insisted on hugging all the bushes and apologizing for pollution on the way home.
This is Jewish guilt versus Irish Catholic guilt. We should tread carefully, or we could fuck up the space-time continuum or something.
I'm okay with that.
I feel like our relationship should have moved on from you constantly asking if I'm gay
It's cosmic balancing. My vagina is an instrument of karmic retribution.
So I met one of her cousins last night. She recognized me as "the guy that's always in the liquor store", I may have a problem.
The only reason you haven't shit yourself yet is because you don't like having fun.
I threw up in 4 different Starbucks across the city before 9 am.
I'm noticing I drink less and do fewer lines when I do both together.
Now that's what I call smart money management.
I can’t tell if I have feelings for him or if my vagina does.
Ok, as his sister I didn't tell you this but he's very familiar with pregnancy symptoms. So next time he calls you fat freak him the hell out by asking if your ankles look swollen.
Randomize
