I woke up, mistook him for my ex, and started screaming. It was all that chest hair. I don't think this relationship is going anywhere.
I'm buying this stripper a house, I don't care what her name is.
She wouldn't stop telling me the story of the penis and how she got laid.
She forced me to throw up so it would "rejuvenate" me. It worked and then we took six more shots and did a keg stand. You know what I call that? Friendship.
My autobiography is now tentatively titled "I'm Fucking the DJ, and Other Ways to Party for Cheap"
Remember when we pinky swore we'd never feel hungover alone...
Nothing says "I support my fellow man" like taking your friends recently divorced dad to a strip club and bar hopping with us to get him laid by an upgrade.
How many stacks you been grindin gangsta?
omg mom no
It's so blood brotha crip what be good
"Douchebag of the Year" award goes to the guy who didn't reply to the picture of my tits.
I mean technically the bite was both in my nose and on the outside of it. I thought I was going to need stitches or something.
Why was his mouth around your nose anyways?
It was just one of those nights, man.
OMG BTW REMEMBER HOW HE ORDERED PIZZA THAT ONE TIME WE HOOKED UP. APPARENTLY HE WAS HANDING IT OUT TO PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN MY BUILDING AS HE WAS LEAVING
I'd google it, but I don't really want my search history to say, "Name for masturbating on a flight."
I would agree. Whose business is it if I like to guzzle vodka by the liter on my of time? Answer: mine.
Of course, it's a law of friendship. "Thy friend Shalt always hold hatred for thine friend's swinish ex"
You know it's a good May 2-4 when it involves 14 straight hours of vodka slush and garlic bread
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