Our relationship is like that beach boys song "help me Rhonda" and I'm fucking Rhonda. And Rhondas's the whore in case you've never heard it.
We're sitting in his room writing songs about America. There's a verse about a dead dog. There's tequila everywhere.
Apparently you can talk a girl into leaving the bar and coming back to your tent, who knew?
No worries. It'll grow back. I mean, hey, my eyebrows grew back after he shaved them off. So it's all good.
Just thought you should know I'm having a reunion tour of Athens this weekend. Minus the weird guy I was fucking last time.
Damn you and your marathon penis with its superhuman capabilities
Should I have spent my entire pay check on Crown Royal and LSD? No. Do I regret it? Also, no.
I'm on the porch day drinking and the neighbor is in his yard screaming about his amazing sandwiches, maybe we should move.
I swear if you get so drunk that I have to sing Bohemian Rhapsody to you again to get you to come out of the bathroom I'm leaving you at the bar this time.
Rebecca hasn't has this number in 3 months. Please tell all her friends to stop calling at 3 am. We are not interested in buying or selling drugs nor do we want to hook up with anyone. You all need to go to rehab.
I got with a bridesmaid and a server as well as put an $80 tab in rum and coke under the name Emerson Iglesias. Are you sure it wasn't my wedding?
They pay me enough to pretend to be either helpful, or heterosexual. If they want both I need one hell of a raise.
If my vagina were a person, it just ran a marathon.
Hes back in his dorm room dancing naked with 3D glasses on.
and he said that acid doesnt really do anything to him...
Hey mike is locked out, sleeping on the common room couch, no idea where his pants are nor does he know where he is. When you get this let him in? And let me know ur alive too!
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