Ya know, I lied. I wouldn't mess with him. Not because of the crazy/rehab issues... but because he wears tank-tops.
Remember when you tried to pay that stripper to cry on stage?
About six hours after the bottle of smirnoff, I was googling "losing your stomach lining" and calling my mom for help. She has experience.
I am too drunk to deal with your everything. Reread this everytime you feel the need to talk to me.
Every time I stand up, gravity punches me in the tits. This is horrible.
Found a grenade pin. Still no Dave.
There is not greater feeling than lying to your boss and leaving work to shit in the comfort of your own home
I'd recommend you leave that level of crazy to the experts. I'd start with an under appreciated soccer mom if I were you.
I'm just going to lay in a blanket cocoon of self pity for the next few months.
I got kicked out of the hotel after wandering into the banquet kitchen at 2am trying to find the shrimp....so we're power napping in the car and then driving to madison.
I am at Brians in a pirate costume, what the hell am I thinking
I'm just waiting til he drunkenly pisses in his new man's car the way he always whipped it out and went Bellagio in mine.
I sent her a picture of Richard Nixon and said "these are the only dick pics I send".
No one likes wet exercise unless it's vigorous sex in the shower
I can't remember the last time I saw a penis in person that I didn't see a million times on text first
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