I don't know why people felt they couldn't use the toilet with me passed out in the tub. I shut the curtain. It was like being in another room.
they just named my boobs. Lefty is "Guenevere" and Righty is "I claim this boob for America"
i pretended i was deaf and got a girl to come home with me
So on how many levels of wrong is it that I'm reconsidering my divorce simply because I don't want to go through getting used to shitting around someone again.
I guess our biggest consolation is that we haven't woken up in a hottub with a dead dude. Yet.
The bellhop gave us weed in our keycard envelop. We went down to tip him and he apparently never gets that so he just gave us more weed. Kentucky is strange
If you hook up with a kid and the next day he breaks up with his girlfriend, those can be seen as two completely unrelated incidents right?!
High moment. Almost just passed the blunt to the dog.
i just want to be sober by dinner like is that too much to ask
As long as I don't spend the half the week passed out/fucked up on Klonopin and no one dies, this will be the best week I've had all semester.
I feel like passing out with my foot on your face has bonded us at a very fundamental level.
He started to lick a stick of butter and was calling it Jennifer.
Thirty seconds is a long time in jizz time...
These morning walks of shame have became my morning jogs
I'm covered in bruises and scratches. I dont know whether to call them battlescars or sex decals
Randomize
