Can't talk. I'm at the Tulsa Sheriff's office with a bunch of rednecks. I bet I'm the only one that voted for Obama.
I bet you're the only one who could read the ballott.
So she comes up to me at the end of the night and asks me if I going to take her home and fuck her. I pretty much had to right?
you had an obligation.
I know I am usually the slut but tonight it's her. She is being a slut, yes slut, T as in Tomorrow, U as in Uterus, L as in Llama and S as in Sangria. That spells slut, but backwards and that's what she is being.
I should probably file for unemployment. Sometime between last night and 4 AM I facebooked my manager the lyrics to hoe by ludacris. I'm just projecting ahead here.
I never thought to pass out in a hotel lobby rather then paying for a hotel room until you taught me that's acceptable at the Hilton
No, no... it's pale and surrounded by awkward, curly, red hair. It's the Ronald McDonald of penises.
Dad just showed up on someone else's golf cart, filled an ice chest with booze and left while yelling "SHINANIGANS!!!!" this is going no where fast.
New favorite drinking game: bobbing for jello shots. Where did these freshmen come from and when can we go there?
Shit, my parents are coming over and I just realized that a grinder is not an acceptable paperweight
No talking tonight. Just drinking and puking up memories
You straight up wore me out. This should be a proud moment for you. It's almost like my penis is asking for a timeout. But not really
As we have told you before, the first rule of hook-up bingo is we don't talk about hook-up bingo
I can't wait to get home and drunk cuddle your dog
I walked outside and found some random guy passed out on our front porch. We managed to acquire the 12 pack of lagers he had so it's all good.
i woke up on the floor in front of the fireplace and my last google search was "fuck sponges"
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