Wasted at the beach. Toasting underage, overdeveloped girls. God bless 'em.
all we ever talk about is how much i like your dick or my drug problem.
even the sluttiest version of myself will not go down on him
I don't know how I'm boarding the plane tomorrow. I have my car registration.
I should have to wear a sign around the rest of the day so everyone knows the shame I feel.
Its like the two hemispheres of my brain are in a death match but are two evenly matched for either side to win kinda drunk.
Remember that time you bought snap bracelets on Amazon and they sent you 300 pregnancy tests instead? Amazon knows.
The packers need to win more often, Andrew keeps drunk calling me and confessing his undying love for me in between puking and taking more shots.
We are trying to penis chicken awkward them out. But I think it's a gay wedding. Backfiring. Heavily.
the fact that you have a guy named the "i want you to tie me up and fuck me" guy speaks volumes about your life.
Never in my life did I dream that I would meet and NFL linesman, let alone that he would be standing before me dressed as a Roman centurion and asking for Vaseline.
My day went from bad to worse when I realized I puked out my second floor window last night.
I was going to make you have an awkward boner around all your coworkers but then I fell asleep.
National champion athletes like gay butt sex, too. I'm just here to help them out.
All I can remember from last night was eating nutella and touching myself to Weird Science.
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