so that wasnt chicken after all
Amanda Bynes on the cover of maxim is my 8th grade masturbation fantasy come to life
You called in. Quitter. You stayed at home naked drinking again didnt you.
He broke into my apartment to check his Facebook again, the beer is all gone, and there's a new high score on pac man.
we all took turns holding you up and pretending that you were simba and that we were presenting you to the jungle
when the officer asked him if he had been drinking, he just goes, "yeah, you?" then falls onto the table.
Admittedly shitfaced... I have two questions. 1)why is the fan in my bathroom on? (Sub-text: is there a ghost?). 2) is your underwear really argyle?
Apparently nick called me at 3 in the morning looking for you because you ate your keys and ran away..do I need to call an ambulance.
I know. In fairness he did tell me to throw up out his window onto his roof so I don't think he's pissed at me but I'm still mortified by the whole situation.
I don't need to marry the guy. I just need some filthy, shameful wish fulfillment sex and then live out the rest of my life on the bean farm.
I'm gonna give the church their tithe, and the rest is a down payment on boobs.
I'm not complaining, but why is it that every time I hang out with you I come home with random injuries and random girls?
I want you to worship my cock.
That's not how you start a conversation.
Ok, there are marshmallows shaped like elephants
Try sleeping with him.
Why is it that all my gay friends have that solution...
Cuz you will have an answer or have sex.
Randomize
