she asked me if the dress made her look fat, i told her no - the fat made her look fat.
I've been alternating between telling people I was mauled by a bear or hit by a car to explain the massive unexplainable bruise on my leg. Slightly more worried now that the car idea is believable.
I tried telling the cop that I don't do drugs, and that if he'd just take me home I could prove it by showing him my D.A.R.E. certificate.
Dude. Yeah. This is a game changer. I feel dirty and possibly pregnant and it hasn't happened yet.
Can we make a pact that if we're 40 and still sluts that aren't married we can get civil unioned the fuck up and raise an asian baby as our own?
And then I cried about the Cubs for a half hour. If my dignity hadn't already been lost by that point in the night, it sure as hell was then.
They are stoned and trying to learn sign language together. It's like watching a chimp waving at itself in a mirror.
Really uncomfortable with the level of eskimo brotherhood at this family reunion
My body is telling me there was tequila. My pictures say it was Jeff's fault
And then you two got up and shouted in near perfect unison "I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR BASKIN ROBBINS" The bar just looked at us horrified.
Nothing says you made great Saturday night choices like someone's dick that you don't remember, poking you in the ass Sunday morning.
You're telling that to the kid drinking Jack in nothing but a graduation cap
I have a few Facebook friends I only keep around for quality control purposes on Tinder
Also: that bruise on my leg where you left like 3 sets of teeth marks keeps getting run into the corners of desks and shit. And I can't even complain to anyone at work
remind me again why we thought drinking hungarian moonshine was a good idea
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