So the D.A.R.E. essay I helped my tutor kid write won an award. Oh the irony.
Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
You poured sparks in your panties and NOW you're wondering why you have a UTI?
Come to wine Wednesday bro. We have a fog machine
How many people can say they've shit on the floor of a five star hotel?
I walked outside an you were laying down talking to a star about your life. That's when I took the bottle of jack away...
I just tried to make cleaning gasoline off your shoes with toilet paper in the Chemistry Building bathroom look normal. I failed.
unless you have a dick and you were thinking of chopping that off
Just saw our highschool guidance counselor at the bar and he's taken six shots in the last hour. Those teenagers have fucking hardened him.
I'd do them all but honestly I'm so high that I probably should have a chaperone.
she definitely didn't appreciate it when you justified bringing her home by yelling to me "fat bitches need love too"
I just drove by a stop sign that had a used maxi pad stuck to it WHAT THE FUCK
I'm smoking and watching the Muppets Treasure Island. Where are you?
Something about that statement reminds me just how much of a role model you are, sis.
Being drunk at Chick-fil-A is a dystopian experience
I've decided I will have no shame for the things I don't remember doing.
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