I wish i could make my toaster dance like they do in the second ghostbusters. But i dont have ectoplasmic goo. Or a toaster.
woke up rolled in a yoga mat listening to enya. I'm never going back to Oregon ever again.
He called me a "functional alcoholic" like its a bad thing.
So I have the hangover from hell, spent all night puking, and there's a septic tank truck parked outside the house literally pumping shit. You win God.
Its 6:30 and I'm shotguning a busch ice while taking a shit. Outlook for work today: interesting
I just very easily got pretty high off of one bowl of shitty dirt weed. I'm a sad excuse for who I used to be.
This is simple. Just sex and high fives. No feelings.
Also, as my manager i'm going to put you in charge of making sure i don't drown.
The things happening in my intestines right now should only ever happen at truck stops and frat houses.
Dude, the lecture theatre is caving in on me.
Judging by my bruises, I know I took more than one tumble. I probably pulled u down w me, and then punched you in the knee. Been trying to find a place to fix my phone between naps today. Almost no place accepts hand js as currency these days. 2013 is gonna be expensive and whorey.
You don't understand. There's baclava and there's post sex baclava. You can't compare the two.
Now theyre filling the kiddie pool water with boxes and boxes of jello powder and im not sure if thats a sign i should leave or what
I never truly understood the phrase ball is life until I started having to balance NBA finals and all these men with balls i'd like to handle.
In other news, I tore a tendon in my hand from giving my boyfriend handjobs so that's how my day is going
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