I think I died a long time ago.
I am drinking with my family and the average drinking tolerance is a shot and a half. I feel like the incredible hulk.
I have a drunk 6th sense to lyrics of songs i dont know. It only works when i dance..
Also, we should really buy some bandaids. Right now I'm using toilet paper and scotch tape, but I don't really think that's sanitary.
He kept surfacing with a delighted look on his face, guessing different types of food to try to figure out what makes my pussy taste so good.
Yeah well my vagina has expectations too but they don't get met all the time.
She can't meet us until 830...there's no hope for our sobriety at that hour
I sleep texted my mom and asked her for a condom last night
I'm eating taquitos in the bathtub at 5:30 am. What a great end to the night
I even put my vibrators back in the bedroom instead of the coffee table. If that's not growing up then I don't know what is.
I love you, and I just washed my hair in my work sink with handsoap.
So uh... Did you mail me business cards that describe my profession as "tortured soul"?
Few clarical questions about last night: 1. How did we get home? 2. Am I wearing your underwear? 3. Where is Andrea? 4. Guy with nose ring last night hot?
1. You tried hitch hiking "like a pro" and flashed cars while sticking out your thumb until I called Michael. 2. I don't know but probably. 3. Who is Andrea? 4. Hot.
HEY I WILL KIDNAP THE FUCK OUT OF YOUR PET GOAT
Also—I just realized that your wedding gift is still on my dining room table. So...as awful as I am for not yet sending it (and I still need your address), at least I didn’t bring my screaming children to potentially the most important day of your life?
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