He just asked me if I ever had the urge to put a zucchini in my ass.
All I remember was yelling at him, "Its becasue of people like you that it took us so long to get to the moon!"
I mean, I don't even call it a hangover anymore. It's just morning.
As i lay in bed, clutching my face, i'm starting to believe your dick in my eye story.
You refused to get in the cab so we rock paper scissored to decide who walked you home and the fat guy was it. So don't blame your poor hook-up choice on me; it was all you.
We looked at pictures of a Texas banjo contest from 2006 for a half hour and then were surprised by who won. That stoned.
The venue for the new years party is close to the hospital for obvious reasons.
I woke up at 3am, my head in a toilet, still at the kegger, wearing a random cowboy hat.
Also the McRib is back. Lets get high, dress like cowboys, and eat some McRibs.
He was having Sex and you yelled 'hot and dangerous!" and he responded with "if you're one of us then roll with us!" when he went to he bathroom I saw her getting dressed, looking mortified.
This isn't just a hangover. I can feel the blood moving through my veins, and it hurts.
Finally liberated my Star Trek DVD from my booty call's house. Captain Kirk would be so proud.
WINE AND FILM. TALK ABOUT AN UPGRADE FROM NETFLIX AND CHILL.
NOT PREGNANT HIGH FIVE!
Pooping to opera.
Randomize
