We need to either drink and not go to waffle house or go to waffle house and not drink. I need to know which is causing these shits.
I remember her trying to talk to me a few times after we broke up and I'd always change the subject to bagels.
your goal of the night was to unlock your iPhone with your nipple. You're going places.
high in an attic. pig roast in 10.
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you came here, splled a bunch of margaritas, hung up a picture of yourself and then left
At the ER. Dropped bottle lead to cut foot which led to me drunk hitting on doctors. Not going well.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate on legal issues with the ghost of his giant penis in me?
Yes. Yes. Double yes. I'll bring the tits. You bring the frosting.
Porch rule of tonight: when you sing, you must use "something" as a microphone. The person to use the most "creative" object gets the door prize...so far Stephie is winning with Jennifer's dog.
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I had to break up with him he didn't understand my priorities. I'm sorry but Saturday nights are for pot and Doctor Who. I'm not going to change who I am.
It's going to be weird as hell when you have kids. I'll meet them and think "Hi, Did you know that I was almost your dad?"
It's been awhile, you pregnant yet?
I sense naked hashbrown eating in my near future.
why the fuck is there hamburger meat in the toaster. i repeat: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE HAMBURGER MEAT IN MY NEW TOASTER
I mean, he'll either figure it the fuck out or set my apartment on fire. Either way, it will be entertaining.