why do guys feel they can ask questions when im blowing them? you'd think they'd know my answer will always be "mmhmhmhmmm"
"Hung over, tired and having a faint scent of some body butter and random pieces of glitter from a girl named gigi, almost arrested in drug bust, $40 Canadian in my pocket and all i got was this lousy Tshirt" shirts dont exist, but they need to
No she had like 2 shots and started ironing her clothes and whispering random shit in my ear
All I could think when I saw it was, "All right, Vagina, only one of us is getting out of this alive."
I'm like a number 27.2 on a scale of 1-10 of how badly I want you right now.
Your lack of a response brings it down to a 25.4.
Its raining shots and i keep catching them in my mouth like you with dicks shits crazy
Guys always stop talking to me right around the point that if they bought me food a couple times I would probably have sex with them.
Maybe I'm nitpicking, but that looked more like how one would jerk off an elephant than it did playing air guitar.
The picture on Facebook I was just tagged in, with the mask, that is the definition of Carmen, my drunk alter ego
I wrote myself a letter, like I think drunk me wants to be pen pals or something
It's really hard to masturbate now that I live with girls who actually function before 11 am.
The awkward moment when a lady ask you what kind of lipliner you're using, but really I have just finished eating hot cheetos.
You challenged a dog groomer that she couldn't cut human hair ... How's the shaved head
When we get drunk one of us ends up running off and fucking someone in an inappropriate place, like the roof of the restaurant, or Greece, while the other convinces people not to worry and not to go looking. That good sir is a real mother fucking friendship.
Thats what I'm talking about
If work found out I was using THEIR paper to write Karate Kid fanfic I'd never hear the end of it.
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