my number is 615-555-1212, <3 your favorite asshole
I think I might be in your shoes. Except they are actually my shoes. Either way these shoes are wasted.
It took you an unbelievable amount of time to realize that your ass was on fire.
neither the pictures you took nor my hangover explain why there are skittles in my shoe
Good thing you didnt wake up last night. Wouldve found me naked talking to my closet asking to borrow my towel.
Chick stood right next to me in the elevator. Like she had the whole elevator and she stood right next to me. So I farted.
Just bonged a beer from a vuvuzela...this place is only doing good for me
I just had a 30 minute fake cell phone conversation with myself just to avoid hooking up with the drunk guy next to me. its like an art form.
I wouldn't have puked last night if I didn't inhale straight pepper from you shattering the pepper shaker on the wall.
You are like a vicious sex animal persistently seeking prey
Shit. I'm suppose to call the bank but I'm too high to talk numbers.
there is vomit in the pocket of my dress coat. i remember thinking "this is a weird place to puke" at some point in the evening, but i dont understand how i did this.
I don't think the TSA would be too happy. Who knows if three ounces of lube will be enough for us?
Ah, drunk me ordered sushi at 3 a.m. for sober me's lunch the next day. EXCELLENT
IM FILLED WITH SANDWICHES AND SELF LOATHING
Randomize
