i have nine cents in my fucking bank account... not even a dime
i hope thats the last time i ever see ryan's hairy ass fucking
This situation is one cop call away from being a Lifetime movie.
You were so hammed, you asked your buddy in Economics to plot a demand curve for Parmesan Cheese.
I went to the bathroom like 8 times and each time I looked in the mirror and tried saying "I am sober." I burst out laughing when I got to "so-" every time. If you can't convince yourself, you can't convince anyone else. Fuck it, I'm going upstairs and drinking more.
You make your fellow Jews happy.
She makes me want to have breakfast margaritas every day
my feelings for you are synonymous with those of a grizzly bear and salmon. i don't want to nom on you; but i need you to survive
you know you've made it when it's your own pool table you're waking up on
we were running to make last call and you stopped me and said very seriously "if i fall, go on without me. just make sure theres a beer in my hand when you go"
There is only one good excuse for how sore I am right now. And that is incredibly acrobatic sex. Unfortunately for me that is not my excuse.
Within 24 hours, I went to a feminist documentary screening with two state reps and you hate fucked a rent-a-cop on the helipad of your hospital. Somewhere our lives went in different directions.
I still make more money.
I didn't realize how drunk I was until my vagina was in the snow.
I would have been very attracted to her had she not been reading me my Miranda Rights
I just tried to snap you a picture of the CVS where we decided not to become parents.
When he identified himself as captain clitoris i knew my night was fucked.
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