He keeps apologizing for not being able to get hard when he's drunk. We havent even left the club yet.
i woke up and my collection of plastic neon wayfarers were half-melted in the microwave. my drunk self hates my hipster self
we literally spent four hours convincing you that all 5 of your toes were there. no more everclear on a tuesday.
Hey man, did I leave the bottom drawer to my refrigerator that I had beer in at your house by any chance?
I'm covered in salsa and facewash. I think I'm doing something wrong over here.
he started drinking at 9am with grey goose and pancakes. He IS my hero.
Woke up this morning on my couch at 6am fully dressed including heels, holding half a corn dog. I called you last night when I was buying the corn dog from a street vendor, I think.
I am in love with you.
Babe. Honestly. Trust me. Your balls are not that big. And i'm eager.
One thing noone tells you about getting put in the drunk tank is do it barefoot. You get free flipflops.
I want to figure out a way to work "if you suddenly die, I might turn into an extreme hoarders" into my valentines day poem
We're doing it in the traditional way of discussing why we dislike each other while sharing a bowl. Just like the natives do.
It's that time of the week again where I begin to ponder life's great questions like, "What will my pathetic excuse for a future look like?" and "Why tacos?"
Jerry got outside again, i found him making dirt angels in the garden. I need to put a bell on that bastard.
Nothing says "Hello, Adulthood!" quite like receiving a dick photo at 11AM from a guy you haven't heard from since fifth grade.
I need some buff guys to cuddle me and call me precious
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