My life is like the prequel to "40 Year Old Virgin"
Silently passing ghastly beer farts as I move around the bridal department at Tiffany's. Call it my contribution to the holiday spirit.
i woke up with a grocery list signed by "the people who ate all your shit while you were passed out"
my sombrero is too big for the bathroom
Tell your boss that he's keeping you from eating a fuck sundae off of these 36-24-36 34 D's waiting for you at home on Valentine's Day.
Good point, clearly my love of penis contributed to my torn knee ligament.
It's okay. My lingerie drawer is skanky enough for the two of us. Even across borders.
The cabbie told me fat girls shouldn't wear tight clothes, and that he feels bad for the guys that have to be underneath them, especially because their positions are "very limited" and proceeded to ask me if I had a trash can and if I could throw something away for him. Don't worry though, he promised it wasn't anything "bad". He then handed me a tied up grocery bag with a bunch of wadded up Kleenex that weighed about 3 pounds. To answer your question, yes I made it home. Fml
What the hell do you have that is more important than a GIANT WATER SLIDE?
He smells like ham and a lifetime of poor choices
I have found random beers stashed in my purse and microwave... Apparently I thought 2015 was gonna have a beer shortage
Just leave a note saying "riding dick see you in the mornig"
you're like an angel sent from heaven to guide my sex life into greatness
Thats so sweet
But the problem is you celebrate with your heart but I celebrate with my liver
I've made a new rule for socializing in the winter: if it doesn't involve me orgasming or getting drunk I can't make it
Randomize
