Girl next to me just said "as a guy I used to sweat but not I don't. it's awesome" Oh. My. God.
Just talked to the girl you brought home from the bar last night while she was looking for her panties. She said to tell you "nice try".
Nope it's him. He's whispering to himself and buying asparagus.
I know it's not your turn to do the dishes, but since they're covered in your puke, it is.
Out of ice. Vodka+club soda+cut up lime popscicle=I'm an alcoholic genius.
he was holding the bottle like a running back yelling for security and the national guard as he was being tackled
She came to the party dressed as slutty elmo and then called me oscar the grouch for not wanting to bang her in the dumpster outside.
she is way to in-touch with her childhood
After so many times of carrying your puked covered clothes home in a bag on a Tuesday morning, you begin to realize that Fucked Up Mondays aren't a real thing.
I just fully woke up, never smoking that much weed again. I had stress dreams about your house being surrounded by a lake and we kept losing our cars in it.
I just instagramed a picture of an ostrich in case you were wondering what I did with my night
I arrived home at 7am wearing nothing but my underwear and a fedora. I ate half a dozen deviled eggs. Put Katy Perry on repeat. And cried myself to sleep. We cannot go out on Thursday anymore
It turns out my English teacher used to pose for Playboy. She's an inspiration.
You attempted what you called the "Long Island Heist", in which you shoved a half glass of Long Island down your pants and asked me to help you sneak it out. That drunk.
And for the record I didn't even have sex last night. I threw up in his toilet and slept in his bed until noon
True fear is being unable to remember where you hid your weed and vibrator in your parent's house.
Randomize
