I wasn't fucked. I was just drunk, because i was still able to walk into the woods and masterbate.
You know that it's no longer pregaming if you don't go anywhere, right? That's just drinking alone.
I think Memorial Day also marks the beginning of "Bikini Profile Picture" season.
Man, the last time I saw you you were giving me a thumbs up while being pulled out the bar by your belt from some girl.
i've really grown. sober me left an alarm for me every 10 minutes that said NO FAT CHICKS!
dude. im stealing that.
So the stripper who poured a beer on my head also gives great head. Even she doesn't know why she went home with me. No more mystery shot challenges.
Apparently it is frowned upon to ask the bouncer to stop pointing his flashlight in your face and step back so you can puke....and then do it
Well, it's a fine line between people-watching and boob-staring. It's a gray area. But we're in Paris. Let's leave it at that.
Two days later and my throat is still sore. That bong is a double edged sword.
You FaceTimed me at three in the morning while you were peeing. Your eyes were glazed over and you showed me your bellybutton.
The Dick I got last night was so phenomenal that I had to take a fucking personal day today.
He ate me out while watching Fifty Shades of Grey---needless to say I'm locking this down
I seriously just forgot to push down the toaster twice in a row \n\nSo I've been waiting 8 minutes for toaster strudels that I haven't even started... Too high
Can you please stop fucking every bartender in the city? Just once I want to have a Jack and Coke without fielding questions about your availability.
Oh you know, we just bobbed for apples in a bucket full of jungle juice. So, a casual Tuesday night.
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