Last night I got a napkin with 4 names & numbers: Katie, Ellen, Kylie...and Brandon.
At victory brunch. Have a decent story. Im now eskimo brother with the duke mens basketball teams from 2002 to 2008 and obamas right hand man
This is the way my sobriety ends: Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
We did a shot for each one. Father... son... and holy ghost. That wasn't enough though so we moved on to toasting dead relatives.
I gave up. I'm crying over my notes. Oh, ya know, just another drunk finals week
I thought you just gave him blowjobs and he criticized your drug use.
These days, you and me are swimming in dicks.
Marco
Polo
I didnt think the feeling of accomplishment for fucking brothers would be this great.
But I do know they give away thousands and thousands in booze
My liver has a boner
I fell into the fireplace. That is a pretty good sign to stop drinking fireball
I started carrying sissors in my purse to open plan B with. Both ashamed and proud.
You're going to love the baby's room.
I doubt it. I can't have sex there anymore. That severely limits the appeal of the room to me.
You stuck your false lashes to your upper lip and then asked that ONE kid with facial hair if your "mustaches could touch" as an excuse to make out.
Of course his biggest mistake was assuming that I ever gave a fuck to begin with.
You told me that you couldn't come over because you felt like you were gonna die and that houses eat you when you die, and my house couldn't eat you because your house would be jealous. That's when I knew to take the bowl away from you.
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