Okay so if I'm going to keep referring to my hangover in the third person it needs a name.
you were sitting on my toliet with a double cheesburger in your hand asking me how the cheeseburger even got there.
Yelling drunk tank or bust at a cop, not a good idea
I've also hijacked your can opener. Sadly not for the same sexual reason as the muddler.
We didn't talk. I watched you drop an egg on the floor. And watched you praise your haunted broom.
And now thanks to shrooms we all got a terrifying glimpse of what goes on in his head. I will not say I didn't see it coming when it turns out he made a suit out of people's skin
OMG OMG OMG DID YOU KNOW THERE ARE MINI CHOCOLATE COWBOY HATS THAT MEN CAN BUY FOR THEIR PENISES?
I left my bra and a book at his place. He's a hot Scandinavian who is into physics and computers - had to step up my game.
My therapist keeps stopping to ask what 'hooking up' means
ITS ORAL SEX CAROL
He's in grad school at Harvard. I suppose that means my vagina is now smarter than I am.
And anyway at least being paid in opium makes a cool story
Did you ever think you lost your bong and then you find it in the weirdest place? I mean, who leaves their bong in the shower?
Pretty sure I just scored Election Day sex based on the theory that if either of these fools win the world as we know it is over so we might as well get a few orgasms in...
He told you he loved you. Then you wanted to find a chainsaw to cut his dick off.
This is a hangover from hell. Delivered by the devil himself.
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