After last night's events, I googled "how to change your life direction." I found a really helpful ehow.com article.
She kept calling me her DD, which I assumed meant designated driver, so I was confused because I don't even have a car. Found out later it means designated dick. It's what her and her friends use as code for the guy they want to hook up with at the end of the night. I feel so used.
My financial advisor pointed out that 37% of my income is currently going towards "non-essential food items"
That's banker lingo for "you're an alcoholic"
Well I put her head right through the headboard. Thank god the room was under her name.
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I cannot start working out. If I start to look better, I'll ruin ugly women's chances forever. So, really...I'm doing them a favor...think about it.
Returning my drunken purchases from last night. Not a single thing I bought was on sale.
Well. Your father was, shall we say, privately surfing the Internet when he found a video of you and Kevin. This was on a very public website honey.
By the way, Kevin! OMG good catch honey!
We need to talk about the sailor moon porn. Do what you want in your room, but I don't want to come home to you cranking it on the couch to that.
Apparently "I have the beer shits" isn't the excuse my boss wanted to hear. So sue me
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I bet yours is gonna be filled with secret innuendo.
secret innuendo and cervical punches to the world.
That's how all the girlfriends are. Oh he's a boy, no worries, then BAM. I blow their boyfriend.
That's what you get for doing kinky shit with a guy that lives in his moms basement.
The one that slept in my truck and you peed in his face?
There I was, puking into the toilet, and he was rubbing my feet, buck naked. I feel like a drunk Disney princess.
Look, all I'm saying is that you're going to be a great Vodka Mom.
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