The walk of shame is so much worse when you've spent the night third wheeling.
What can I expect? While all of my friends are getting married, all of his friends are tripping on robitussin
I wouldn't necessarily call it an addiction, more of a passion. I'm habitually passionate.
Every time I type "should" my phone autocorrects to "shouldn't". even my phone knows my ideas are terrible.
His shopping cart was nothing but malt liquor and zucchini.
I told the girl in his bed not to bleed on his sheets like the last one.
I don't know if it was his cologne or his Jesus hair, but he was much more fuckable than last time I saw him.
Now that I think about it, it may have been the 6 pitchers of beer.
I hope they realize that to me "collecting their mail" is synonymous with "fucking in every room in their house, and twice in the party shower."
We let him drunkenly pack his own bags without checking them. Yet no one was surprised when the TSA girl pulled a 12 pack out of his carry on.
Nooo, I ran into two if my exes, both having their engagement parties at the bar. It was like a fucking Eskimo family reunion, but with more tequila.
I need to stop getting picked up at 3 am by my friends parents. This is the second time this week. I'm a grown man.
I love this text stream: discussing the development of a business model centered around cooking acid to bankroll a yacht trip in Croatia
im glad to be known as "the girl you had sex with on a golf course"
Moral of the story: next time my plans include you and bourbon, I'm packing a toothbrush.
She was cute in her own little way. Shit, free taco's makes anyone hot.
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