it's my fault, I passed out instead of getting up to pee.
Jerry just sent me this: IOR GHIT ALL THE BUTTIB. Go get him. Now.
So awkward... The newspaper lady just caught me sitting stoned in my driveway at 5 am and asked if I was okay. I'm way better than ok right now
I woke up to a 3rd person picture of my own dick sent from a 1-800 number..
A black suburban rolled up and a scary suited guy got out the passenger side and opened the door for her as she got in. Then drive off. Who did I just fuck?
The worst thing about him living around the corner is that who ever suggests the booty call is the one that walks over.
I was wasted and the time changed. I blame the male strippers.
I want to go to a gay rodeo for my cross country road trip. It'll be like my very own homo country boy pilgrimage to the holy land.
The last thing I searched on my phone was "leave in conditioner on cats." This is where my life is.
Just brought out that old CCM hockey helmet. The one covered in sharpie penises with "DRUNK BUCKET" written across the front. The number of tally marks / initials from tonight's drunk stunts alone is equal parts inspiring and alarming.
Do you remember the bathroom attendant when he put out his hand for a tip and you gave him a high five?
At this point it's more of an experiment to see how much actual bush growth is possible. See, being single can be both educational and surprisingly comfy!
Why do all the Father's Day cards talk about what a great dad they are? Why can't there be one that says something like "Thanks for sticking it to mom and making me possible, your sperm was appreciated."
I no longer need a flask. I need a canteen.
Way to fucking accidentally drunk dial me while you're talking to and buying other girls drinks. Don't call me.
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