Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
You asked the dj to play 'who let the dogs out" because it was your birthday. You left the bar and then re-entered to the song
Going to eat lunch. Bunch of people in church clothes, and we are hungover, wearing pajamas, and in real danger of puking on the floor. We're about to destroy the ambience of this joint.
I wonder what a non-hungover friday at work is like
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Probably shouldn't have worn my jeans covered in blood from last night to class.
Is it possible to dent your eyeball? And how do you "accidentally" go cosmic bowling?
I mean looking back on it, it's unlucky but at least now we can say we were in jail from 2011 to 2012
That's thinking positively..
Your subconscious sucks. Mine is awesome. I have a recurring dream where I manage a chocolate factory run by big titted hookers.
A) you're a liar. B) that would be awesome.
One time she made a chronological chart for the guys she has given blow jobs to, I shit you not.
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Bryan's allergic to that cheap detergent, so he's been naked for three days. But we're all used to it now, so the party is still on.
In the bath trying to absorb water through my skin because I can't drink it.. That hungover
the last time I drank tequila I ended up riding your skateboard nude down the street... so yeah, I'll have a few shots.
I also told the pizza delivery guy that he smelled good. I must be ovulating.
Well, that's not my fault. I make decisions all the time when I'm drunk.
Like bruh, I’m a free range girlfriend
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