So I'm playing pool in my cowboy boots and some guy came up looks at my boots and goes, "you should've got the boots with the fur"
after the first, "yea you like that baby", i quickly remembered why i had stopped having sex with him.
i was concerned for your health after you took your "last shot" four times...
Drunk off five beers on a Tuesday. I'm not sure which part of that statement is more sad
..and it was like all of a sudden I could hear the sounds my brain was making
I just reenacted what a cuntadactyl would act like by putting straws in my mouth as teeth and roaring, Plz come get me.
My living room is scattered with glow sticks wrappers, sparklers, face paint & beer cans?
It's not as cool looking when the drugs wear off, is it?
At a party. It smells like teen pregnancy and sadness in here.
Chicken wings don't come back up an through your nose as easily as you'd think
Rick two cubicles down puked and that triggered three others puking into their trash cans as well. The janitorial staff hates it when we go drinking on a work night.
I need to have sex. It's becoming like a matter of public safety.
If I make it home without being sick in this captain's hat it will be a fucking miracle.
The last thing I need is a possessed urethra.
I keep track of what day of the week it is by my recent destinations on my nav system. \nRight now it's: booty call, bar, booty call, brunch, bar, church so that must mean we are getting close to Sunday when we start the rotation all over again.
Cat needed to get out last night. Walking to the door was too much effort so I encouraged (pushed) him to leave via window.
Isn't your room on the second floor?
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