Beverly Hills, 90210. Cleveland Browns, 0.
I wasn't so much your wingman at that point as I was the interpreter of you point at shit and mumbling to the cab driver.
You kept telling me how warm your bag of vomit was and asked me if i wanted to feel.
So I passed out with my boxers on in the hotel jacuzzi at 5am.. The manager who kicked me out was pretty cute so I left my name and number for her at the front desk. I'm giving it a 50/50 she calls.
So im guessing you dont remember the walk home, where you layed down in the alley and began to sing "threes company too" and when i told you to get up you had the nerve to tell me i was to drunk.
Idk, you were a drunk pirate that kept stealing pieces of people's costumes to keep as your booty.
That would explain all the random shit in my room...
I'm sure we could make a ball of yarn and a nickel into a drinking game
If it makes you feel any better, I had my finger up some guy's butt today... Dominatrix training, ya know...
Did your surprise acid trip turn out well?
We literally solved our fight using cat pictures on Instagram. True love.
I'll do anything with you, except downhill sports and butt stuff.
I remember 2 things. 1. Hanging through the window. 2. And she needing a bucket to puke in. That’s all. I have no other memory.
he’s basically the devil with a fuck boy hair cut and chlamydia
Drunk version of me is like a sleeping demon inside of me that awakes to the sound of vodka
low point of the night : a cop just busted out laughing at me.
Randomize
