You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.
she called me a fuckfaceshitdick. not that's creative. it sounds like a crayola crayon, preferrably an orange-brown shade.
He was sitting cross legged outside his tent repeatedly hitting the ground with a hammer and shouting 'this.is.a.good.idea.'
Whatever. I'm saving myself for my wedding night or a night with enough patron.
I mean, I don't even call it a hangover anymore. It's just morning.
Just wrote the directions to get to the girls house im hooking up with on the back of my marriage certificate. Officially worst husband ever.
walking around pouring bird seed on passed out guys in the quad.
Just got back from fathers day breakfast. So hungover i couldn't eat so i just slipped my food in my pockets and threw it out while i puked in the bathroom.
Dude are you alive? We drank shit that made a german bartender blow chunks.
Guess who just got out of a ticket because the cop liked her costume? THIS GIRL.
Sailor Jerry came over for the evening. It was a magical evening. I didn't even get puke in the house.
my whole wardrobe smells like substance abuse
The cops spotted my on my walk of shame down the boardwalk and gave me a ride home. I'm starting to make a name for myself here.
Naptime over. I've got fresh contacts and tequila. RAAAAAAGE!
Soooo, hypothetically, how long would roommates have to sleep together before its considered dating...
Randomize
