I feel like I got hit by a truck made out of Jack Daniels.
I drank so much Goldschläger last night, I could shit a necklace.
It doesn't matter if I tell the story beginning to end or end to beginning, the story still starts with a random girl blowing me in the bathroom.
we were the definition of too high: argued for 10 minutes about who was gonna get the condom (it was 2 feet away on the night stand) and past out watching adventure time.
In your drunken glory you promised me, tongue, 12 naked pics, and 1,800 breakfasts.
Lets watch game of thrones and have sex every time someone is naked. It'll be like a drinking game but better.
"Yeah because the first thing I think of when I hear the word college is tear gas."
My hangover headache is somewhere in the Harry Potter scar neighborhood. I can now empathize with that poor bastard.
Why can't he just dump me? This is like a baby seal clubbing the hunter
we were running around the halls trying to bloodhound search out the source of the weed smell, but we ran into six other people doing the same thing, and they all said they assumed it was us.
Not sure, she said after cussing out the dentist they called security. Make that the first person I know 86'ed by a dentist.
When I came she triumphantly exclaimed, "MUAHAHA VICTORY IS MINE!"
Not going to lie, when I looked in the tub I expected to see what might have been remnants of a squirrel.
We could just go to Vegas and celebrate my singlehood and not contributing to the population.
Sorry I can't pick up... thought process is fine but too stoned to form words.
Randomize
