I woke up this morning with I hate myself feeling
I just cut my nipple shaving
only my mom would pack illegal paraphernalia in a care package..
Well the nurse forgot to take all my stitches out, so my surgical tools are peroxide, kitchen scissors, fingernail clippers, a pocket knife, and 11 beers. Let's do this...
Suuuuuuper drunk and just sang fuck her gently to the chiminea. I'm in bad shape.
In a weird way, I don't want to stalk him on Facebook. I want to find out what's wrong with him the old-fashioned way. Is this what it means to be romantic?
I took the weekend off because he and I were supposed to go to Vegas for our anniversary and get a hooker remember?
Ah, yes. Who says romance is dead?
He wouldn't let me leave his house until he made me orgasm once for every year I've been alive. The birthday sex song did not prepare me for this.
It is unclear if my flaming esophagus is hangover induced.
He showed up to a booty call with 2 tea bags, but no condom...
I'm not snubbing your weed I just had a really important rack of ribs to get home to
I'm gonna have to kick a girl scouts ass...
Hey. You dropped and smashed your road beer in my store last night. Again. And this time you didn't even order anything. You just walked in, yelled "SWEDISH STYLE!" Then lost your beer, looked depressed, and left.
You hit your head and proceeded to fall in the floor, curl up in my lap and make me rock you like a small infant. I was beginning to worry until you started to sing "Rock me momma like a wagon wheel".
how the FUCK did i spend 25 dollars at 50 cent beer night?
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