What's wrong?
Long week. Sore muscles. Bad back. Hangover. Mini-keg. Crazy ex-wife. Unavailable love-interest. Dead celebrity families. Republicans.
Pussy.
She STILL went home with me even when I said yes when she asked if I had an infectious disease. Turns out she asked if I had an infectious spirit...well she has my infectious spirit now
i just keep taking vicodin and supergluing random shit
dont worry about it. i always have emergency bong water with me
the cool security guard showed me the video clip of how i sat criss-cross-applesauce on the elevator for 20 minutes last night
I can't make Walk of Shame Wednesdays a recurring theme.
"lets watch the sunrise" turned into "lets have sex on the roof at six thirty in the morning"
good news: I made it out of bed and into shower. Bad news: I made it back to bed without clothes. Worse news: I don't know this bed.
Are we talking about who knows if I'll get naked pictures of you with a broadsword or who knows if I'll be surprised?
drinking right out of the bottle and nobody bats an eye.
its good to be home.
Aren't you proud to know somebody who texts you "manifold facade" while dumping frozen colada mix into a blender of rum
My mom just added me on Facebook... She has one like and it's Will Smith
I would use the term shit faced but I'm too polite for that
I want to have sex with Will Smith. I guess I have a thing with 90s sitcom stars. Stamos, Joey Lawrence, John Goodman.
you know your booty call is really trying when he offers to pay the toll for the bridge you have to cross to get to his house
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