I've decided through careful research we can out drink any country folk.
My roommate just got home. Made an entire package of bacon. Ate it. And then went to bed.
He's eating a cream cheese sandwich. He's obviously distressed.
It's okay, I climbed on the roof of the bar to get my shoe back. This may become a Saturday tradition. I'll keep you updated
his eyes are fucked up, he bumped into the cabinet while standing in my office, and he's pounding chicken soup, and he must have chewed on 8 pieces of gum before he got here.
Please rescue me. but take your time, im getting pizza
we had break-up sex in a port-a-potty. how do you think it went?!
I want him for more than banging and buying me potato salad. Is this what love feels like?
They've already turned me into the Dean of Students once because they felt 'unsafe' because I came home hammered and asked one of them to make me a grilled cheese sandwich. Like, I just ASKED!
I don't know what happened. His phone, shirt, shoes, and the condom wrapper are here but he isn't. I don't even know how to get a hold of him right now
I am drinking fireball and apple juice out of a sippy cup like a fucking toddler.
In the last six hours i have procured a free sandwich, watched three movies, and came to orgasm. If that isn't productivity then i don't know what is.
I've found my soulmate with the cardboard Dos Equis man.
Wanna get drunk and play candy land? If so you are 2 steps behind.
on the bright side i found your panties and the lid to the nutella
Randomize
