Writing a book: The Evolution of the Douche Bag: From Popped Collars to Ed Hardy Shirts. Doing research now.
Make sure you include chapters on white sunglasses, spray tans, and toxic amounts of hair gel.
I'm sorry that you don't think that "Daddy Issues" are a real thing, but I can tell you that some assholes who never went to their daughter's dance recitals are responsible for getting me laid...continuously.
I just farted in the dogs face to show him who's boss
I just typed 14 shots of Smirnoff into my calorie count toolbar. Then typed pole dancing 1.5hrs into the calorie burner search. Should break even.
Dude you need to stop whoring out my boobs. They are for emergencies only.
I feel like I was just dunked in a tub of beer and then thrown in a giant dryer with rocks in it.
Yeah... I was considering changing that part but the boxed wine is non-negotiable.
Yes. Yes. Double yes. I'll bring the tits. You bring the frosting.
Dunno why I keep hitting snooze. It's never gonna give me the kind of sleep I need to be sober.
So heartbroken my rebound has a rebound
Because of my cut offs, my brother is convinced I fucked a girl so hard she forgot to take her pants. Fairly accurate.
You kept ripping all your clothes off and saying, "Let me be free!"
I'll just give him your contact info, and you'll somehow manage to get laid. Which will make me feel like your vagina's agent or something.
This morning, I found 5 naked people in Steve's bed with post sex hair, and Steve fully clothed sleeping on the ground.
Drunk is a universal language darling
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