Riding home in a carseat. Worst. Night. Ever.
You don't understand, Single Ladies is like the Don't Stop Believing of the gay community.
are you drunk enough to hook up with me yet?
Most the numbers in my phone are mistakes. It's a virtual graveyard of people I should never pick up for.
How the hell am I supposed to know what lotion to get her? They should have a dressing booth where I could go test how good it is for jerking off, then I'd know.
Yeah, I wouldn't mind getting fingered in the corner of a dive bar again.
i got a standing ovation for bringing skittles to the party
And by "hammer out the details" you know I mean spending 20 minutes on wedding plans then getting wine drunk, right?
So the keyword here is "hammered"?
We ate our feelings. Then drank our feelings. I feel feminism delivered.
Braid them armpits, sister.
I'm spending tomorrow doing taxes and making jello shots. Is this adulthood?
I think I need to see a chiropractor after giving that blow job
I'm still waiting for God to smite you for impersonating a decent human being.
Lol, perhaps. But the drinks are so cheap, the music is better, and the bartenders and bouncers all know my name. I can't abandon it, even if it is a gay bar, its still my Nirvana.
Trying to figure out these fractions. I bought 5 fifths of gin last week. Does that mean I have one whole gin? 5/5 = 1, right? You're having to homeschool your kids right now--so ask them.
Stacy lit a fart and burn half of the couch down before we can put the Flames out. Bring your truck.
Randomize
