Conclusion from last night: Sometimes being classy isn't as fun as making out with a guy on a pooltable in a bar. Happy birthday, Canada.
so we told my parents we were going trick or treating. got high as shit at some playground. and then bought our own candy so we looked legit when we got home.
We probably shouldn't have forced that guys cat to drink the grey goose while we were doing lines in his bathroom
Its... i dont even know. theres lots of rap music and i cant find my shoes
Then she said I give the best mouth hugs and bar went silent.
Celebrated the veterans I suppose, my mouth tastes of gin and black outs
So I found out me and this guy I was drinking beer with tonight both got lactated on by the same stripper. We're milk brothers.
just once i'd like to actually BE there for your crazy drunk stories instead of just getting the play-by-play by people who can't remember half of it
I think he might be using me for sex. I also think I might be ok with that.
I'M IN A SPINNING VORTEX OF SELF-HATRED AND HORNINESS
Btw, apparently no one knows who ordered the pizzas for the after party, no one paid, and the delivery lady made a celeb shot, took a beer, then said she'd be back later to finish up the game...
I threw up in my 8 AM. Morale is low.
Look fucker, my sensibility and attention to detail is the ONLY REASON you're not dead now
What? No, wine isn't my weakness, I just love it.
So I wake up to my ex girlfriends underwear hanging from the ceiling fan and the only thing i can think of is "what time is the game"
Randomize
