ya dads aren't the best wingmen
I swear to god Optimus Prime and Megatron are fighting in my head right now.
Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
they're scary. like turkeys that ate nuclear fucking steroids.
he's making romantic advances towards me. and he has a pet snake. 2nd part not relevant, but interesting.
If my nicknames are based on what I throw up, you can call me Jimmy Johns
the girl i fucked last night woke up this morning, disoriented and looked at me, and said "oh, you're hot." and went back to sleep.
I made her cum... she sounded like Ray Romano
He may or may not be blacked out. We put him to sleep in the community bathroom. He's wrapped in your blanket and he's already puked on it twice. Using your blanket was my idea. Maybe next time you'll ask before taking my vodka.
if this hangover is indicative of how 2011 is gonna be, i want nothing to do with it
Then, halfway through our conversation, I remembered what you drunkenly told me last night and was all "maintain eye contact, do not look at his massive penis".
I'm drunk in your building find me and we can have sex.
Bryan's allergic to that cheap detergent, so he's been naked for three days. But we're all used to it now, so the party is still on.
Thats why you dont have a "jubilant gunfire celebration"
I lose my morals, my dignity, and my selfie stick :(
Randomize
