Remind me to tell you the Scottish bar story tomorrow
Remind me to tell you it was a shitty story when you're done telling it tomorrow
I mean, I don't even call it a hangover anymore. It's just morning.
Her tits were the only thing that upgraded her from "no way in fuck" to "drunken mistake"
I had to convince you not to write "happy birthday to the first guy who fingered me" on his facebook wall, right above the post from his current girlfriend's mother.
You're on Grindr at the STD clinic. I love you.
You kept mumbling that you could become one with the carpet as you proceeded to give yourself the worst carpet burn I have ever seen
I was cracking open beer cans, throwing them off the roof, and yelling "FRAG OUT!"
The homeless guy who goes through my garbage cans just gave me a flyer for an AA group.
Reasonably certain my seventh grade teacher is encouraging me to drop acid on twitter
Sheila knows I only go down on her on Bastille Day. Valentine's Day we get high and watch The Neverending Story. THE SYSTEM WORKS.
I feel like Captain Morgan shit all over my hopes and dreams last night...
I named my Roomba after my pot dealer. I have a problem, don't i?
Accepting his friend request would be the Facebook equivalent of pity sex.
I am at the car wash dressed as a turn of the century librarian
may or may not have snorted a line of tums... wtf.
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