I'm thinking we can stop tracking my sex life by the hotels I've hooked up in and instead use bar bathrooms I've gotten head in.
I decided that Calgary can keep my underwear. They earned it.
I was informed that last night we held hands while puking on the curb outside the bar.
We just have a real special relationship.
My goal for tonight is to swipe my debit card through those weird rolls on the back of a big bald guy's head.
The last thing I remember was you puking all over the inside of my door and him yelling "PUKING RALLY!!!"
As the bouncer was escorting you out, you yelled "keep your filthy dick beaters off me!"
It doesn't feel like real life when you open your hotel room door and the first person you see is wearing a rabbit costume. I'm too hungover for this.
Friend as in 'I used to have sex with her' or friend as in 'I still want to have sex with her'?
I am at a new level of appreciation for drunk-you, who threw up into her own sweatshirt pocket last night in the car. Brava.
I feel like dick that good should always be within a five kilometre radius of me.
Im watching animal planet drunk, watching a documentary on mermaids. Tonight has not gone to waste.
This is gonna be the kind of weekend where if it involves putting on pants, it ain't happening.
Ah, Christ. I just saw a D lister I made out with once on a Rock Of Love rerun. Why are you asleep right now? Some weird shit is happening.
Did you hear about the guy wearing a spiderman mask running around naked with a bottle of patron?
Yeah.
I was spiderman.
I'm one bad relationship away from owning seven cats.
Randomize
