I had a dream last night that I had sex with Abe Lincoln. I must stop watching the History Channel before I go to bed.
My favorite part was walking in the bathroom, you fixing yourself in the mirror, calling your reflection a fag, then throwing a haymaker into the paper towel dispenser before going back out to the bar.
Referring to yourself in third person during sex is apparently an instant turn off
Sunday is a myth, I refuse to believe that I waste an entire day unable to function after a night of drinking.
I guess I'm in a committed relationship. We just had shot 1 of 3 of Gardasil. I'm now dead inside.
I pulled an all nighter. So hoped up on coffee and aderall. Pretty sure you could take my pulse through a snow jacket...
i love you man. i hope we fuck some serious shit up this summer.
Hardest I think I've ever had to work for a shack. Whatevs. Still gonna get my way though. I'll start respecting myself on Monday
I don't get hangovers. Except once. And there is a massively epic story behind that, involving so much alcohol I should have died, and 13 raw hotdogs.
I really have a thing for Greek chicks; I feel like while we are having sex she has the ability to make hummus which is just too appealing for me to pass up.
I love when groups of boys part so I can walk through. It's like a red sea of penises, and I am their Moses.
First. I had the strength. Now. I am the death.
We found him. He just came running out of the closet with a bruise on his face saying he has been fighting elves in Narnia for a year.
He tried to throw up into a beer bottle. It was a complete disaster. Vomit went everywhere. It put the Bellagio's fountain to shame.
What did you spend the night in her closet?
She said she was saving me for breakfast and locked me in there
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