Im at a party and this guy hitting on me just showed me his 'caution choking hazard' tattoo right above his penis. There goes any chance he had of getting laid tonight.
I just puked in a penis shaped cake pan. I've hit an all new low for a Tuesday.
Is it creepy to message a girl and say you had me at stocked liquor cabinet?
I like how the only thing you spelled correctly is "i'm tequila"
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if you want blown tonight you're gonna have to take me up on that offer now. in less then 45 minutes you're gonna be blacked out and i'm not doing something i'm not getting credit for in the morning.
You know you're fucked up when you throw your phone on the roof of the bar to show how good the Otter Box works.
I haven't even booked my flights yet and I have my drug supply sorted
Now I can say "look me up on Pornhub."
He bought me a burrito. I introduced him as "Horse-Dicked Jake" all night. My debt has been repaid.
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I know, but the fabulousness of my baggies should not be what defines my business as a drug dealer.
I appreciate the I'll come bail you out of jail tone in the text
when i woke up with 300+ messages I didn't except them to be about coyotes and burning shoes.
I NEED A MOM FRIEND. NOW.
I’m literally lecturing this class on professionalism, while my body is undoubtably covered in leftover cum from last night. I’m a fucking role model.
How is it that I can make it to my 8am Friday morning still drunk after passing out the night before...but not to my 9am on Tuesday that I went to bed early for? Irony or karma?
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