you're like the ceasar milan of boners... you understand them on a different level.
I woke up in my own vomit, a chunk of cactus in my thigh, shirtless, with jons mom poking at me with a glass of dr pepper and a talk about god....damn alcohol
Also, the wait staff kept prematurely clearing my Manhattans. Not sure if it was an oversight or a hint.
Like it was the Mama Mia of shit shows. That bad.
There's puke on my pillow. I'm still wearing my wedges. And I have a cab drivers number clutched in my fist.
Woke up covered in green glitter and beer. I am never leaving Ireland.
I'm straight up riding in the back of my truck in a bean bag chair right now. Feet propped up and four loko in hand. Glorious.
At some point, I’d like to pretend that his penis is a popsicle.
And what in gods fuck were you drinking. It tasted like windex with a mixture of juce
Did we do drunk science last night? There's tequila in the test tubes...
In retrospect, vomiting out of a moving vehicle on the third date should have been a deal breaker
Bring me your tired, your weary, your buffalo chicken dip
So...#1 on my TO DO list for college is to fuck someone somewhere in the stadium during the homecoming game...you down?
I came twice and when I was done I petted his head and said "you did good kid you did good" and just laid back smiling. Tell me I'm not awesome.
I'm always down for nudity.
Randomize
